Dream With Hope
by Talisha Hibdon
Summary: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle-earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope? SLASH Frodo and Sam pairing with minor Merry and Pippin pairing
1. Chapter 1

**Dream With Hope**  
_by Talisha Hibdon   
  
_

  
_RATING: G (future NC-17)  
PAIRING: Frodo/Sam  
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world got trampled over by the Ringwraiths. =)  
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle-earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?  
NOTES: This is a Slash or M/M romance fic, so if that upsets you, scram. This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how manychapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! ^_^ All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.  
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do. ^.~  
_  
  


**_Chapter 1_**  


  
  
In every age since the beginning of the world, there arises a love story of such profound awe and beauty, that it lives on in the minds and hearts of people for ages to come. These strories often repeat themselves in differant forms, adobting differant settings, characters and situations. But the message of the story remains untarnished and true. Love is light. Love is strength. Love never fails.  
  
This is the retelling of such a story.  
  
It begins with a single ray of light, peeking over the horizon, shedding its warmth on the sleeping world. The light carressed the earth like a lover, coaxing it into waking. The creatures that had prowled in the shadows of night crawled back into their dark sactuaries. Eyes large and small opened and witnessed the dawning of a new day. The larger, sleepier creatures shifted and purred as the sun kissed their features. The people of the land rolled over in their beds and felt their souls being pulled by that sunlight back into the realm of waking. Flowers reached up and opened their faces into the growing sunlight. The birds leapt from their nests in pure joy and perched on the welcoming branches of their trees, singing until they felt their hearts should burst, "Oh sweet Middle-earth, Middle-earth, Middle-earth!"  
  
Things continued as they had done every morning since the Song of Creation. Soon the sun had fully risen and morning blossomed in the Shire. It was a beautiful sight, if a person knew how to appreciate such things. Many do not, but I shall write of one who did. This one Hobbit was always up with the sunrise, and he liked nothing better than to stand at his front door and with a pipe and welcome the sun in all her glory. He watched as the creatures of earth and sky awoke with joy at the new day. A robin alighted on the gate in front of the smail and sang a morning greeting to the Hobbit, showing off it's bright red breast, before fluttering over the Hill.  
  
The Master of Bag End gazed on all of this with a gentle smile curling his lips around his pipe. The flowers and the wild creatures were so simple and innocent, free and caring not for all the troubles that vex normal civilized people. He knew that his own day would be full of paperwork and public appearances, attending all the duties of the Mayor of Michel Delvings, but he tried to forget his worries in just this one moment every morning and simply enjoy life as the simple creatures did.  
  
After taking a moment to enjoy this simple pleasure, he turned his face towards the West. He glared that way hard, trying to see past the row of smails that lay that way, past the feilds and villages, past the very edge of the Shire. He was looking towards the Sea, which lay beyond all the land that he so loved, in the very direction that something even more beloved to him had gone. That something, or rather someone, had not been seen by any Hobbit, creature, nor bird in Middle-earth for fifteen years.  
  
"Good mornin'..." he whispered to the loved someone, hoping that his greeting would be carried across the Sea on the winds to that place where this particular someone now dwelt, far away from Middle-earth. A quiet sadness began to throb in his chest, recalling careless dark brown hair, smooth pale skin, red lips, and bottomless blue eyes. He always missed this beloved person most at this hour, for it was in this same hour of the morning that they had parted. This was the very hour in which fifteen years ago he watched this loved one drift off on the waters of the Sea and dissapear into the gray mists, never to return.  
  
Inside the smail he noticed the sound of thumping footsteps coming quickly behind him, suddenly driving the lonesome, nastolgic thoughts right out of his head, for the moment at least. In an instant, out popped a little figure, a boy with curly sand colored hair, healthy rosy cheeks, a wide grin revealing dimples on either side of his pink lips, and merry blue eyes. The child bounded out in front of the Hobbit and inhaled deeply, chuckling to himself, then turned to his elder. "Good mornin' Dad!" he exclaimed brightly. "Will we be doing any gardenin' this mornin'?"  
  
Samwise Gardner (once Gamgee) beamed down at his son with equal mirth. "Good mornin', Frodo-lad," his father replied. "I'm afraid I can't this mornin'. I'll have to be leavin' right after first breakfast." The boy looked dissapointed but continued to grin anyhow. Sam's eldest son always tried hard to get up at sunrise with his father, hoping to be able to help out with tending the garden, and this morning he had succeeded. Unfortunately, what Sam said was true, and he really didn't have any time this morning, probably not even in the whole day, to be able to tend to what had now become his garden.  
  
"Oh, all right," Frodo sighed. "How long will you be at work then?"  
  
"I'm not certain," Sam shook his head. "But I will try to be home as soon as may be." He took a puff of his pipe and blew a smoke ring the sailed high into the air and over the Hill. "I'm hopin' you didn't disturb yer mother with that tramplin' you made down the hall. You know she needs her rest now more than ever with the baby comin' and all."  
  
Frodo-lad puffed up his chest, looking cutely indignant. "I did no such thing. I can hear her snorin' even from here!"  
  
Samwise listened for a moment, then laughed and ruffled the little boy's hair. "Why your quite right, lad. I hadn't noticed it before." He gave one more solomn glance towards the West before at last making a move to go back into the smail. "Let's wake everyone up and have breafast made then, shall we?"  
  
"I want pancakes today, Dad!" little Frodo bubbled up, bounding after him with all the energy of a young and simple 13 year old hobbit lad.  
  
"That can be arranged," Sam responded with a laugh before shutting the round green painted door behind them.  
  
  
Middle-earth knew not that in that very same hour, the beloved one of Master Samwise, the one called Frodo Baggins, was looking off over the Sea into the East, towards his one beloved whom he had left behind, as he had done every morning since he left. But this morning was much differant than the rest. It was this very morning that the former Master of Bag End was making ready to board the white ship of the Elves in the loading ports of Aman, schedueled to make a return trip through the Straight Road and back to the mortal realm in which he was born.  
  
The ship waited only for him, and he came with a stride that was set so firm, one could hardly have imagined he had once been the bent, fragile Hobbit he had been when he first came to the Blessed Realm. Darkness and misery and a broken heart had once weighed heavily upon his soul, causing his once bright eyes to dim, his cheeks to whiten, his lips to drain of all their color, and his head to bend down towards the ground. Now, even as his sadness and lonliness were still ever present in him, his head was held high, his cheeks flushed, his red mouth was set in a stern expression, and his eyes were brilliant with blue feeling. A darkness and uncertainty had been lifted from him, and he had become determined to mend and heal his broken heart and soul before it destroyed him.  
  
Frodo walked up the steps and into the beautiful ship of shimmering white, followed close behind by Gandalf, even more splendidly white than the vessel. "Are you certain now that this is what you want, Frodo?" he asked seriously, touching the shorter male's shoulder and turning him gently to face him. "The Elves will not begrudge you if you choose to change you mind and stay."  
  
Frodo never looked more sure of anything in his life as he looked up at the tall old man with an intense gaze. "It is my wish to go. Bilbo would have wanted it this way. I don't expect to be welcomed when I return to the Shire, but I can not continue to run from my difficulties anymore. It's time I turned and faced them, before I become too weak to handle them."  
  
Gandalf smiled down at the Hobbit with admiration and some relief. The fact was that he had been hoping that Frodo would choose to return someday after having taken his rest in Aman. He had known that if Frodo had chose to stay in the Blessed Realm without the comfort of Samwise, he could continue to fester dark, lonesome thoughts, until it would be too late for any light to ever again peirce his soul. He'd become completely withdrawn, unreachable by life or love, and when Sam's time came to come across the sea, he would not have known his Master.  
  
But Bilbo had done a marvelous thing by bringing to light the danger of not accepting his problems and confronting them. None but the old Hobbit could have reached Frodo in his sorrowful state, not even Gandalf himself. The former Ring-bearer would take comfort in nothing, and everywhere he had looked he saw only his Sam and longed for him. What better way to make such a stubborn Hobbit listen than by waiting until he had no choice but to listen for the sake of a dying loved one. Bilbo's timing for the much need conversation had been perfect, and Frodo was obliged to hear him out in his final moments. He had heard what he needed to hear.  
  
The Elvish captain announced their departure. On the shore, Elrond and Galadriel and a host of both their households came to see them off. Gandalf would return with the boat, but Frodo would remain on the shores of the Grey Havens. Frodo approuched the end of the ship, which held carved into it the image of a Sea Elf gaurding the vessel against sea monster and storm. He looked out among the all the fair folk that had deemed it important to see him on his way and wish him well.  
  
"Farewell, fair Elves!" Frodo called with more than a tear in his eye. "Farewell Master Elrond! Farewell well fair Lady! Namarie! I shall miss you all!"  
  
"Namarie, Ring-bearer," Galadriel called. "You are always welcome here, if ever you should wish to return. May Elbereth and the Valar bless you and keep you on your journey."  
  
"Farewell, wherever you fare, Frodo Baggins!" Elrond called in turn. "May the memory of Valinor never fade in your memory."  
  
"It shall be a memory I will treasure always," Frodo proclaimed as the ship pushed off. "Namarie!" On they drifted and Frodo watched spellbound as the Undying Lands grew further and further away, until it faded completely into the gray mists. He watched as the ship slowly passed through the veil of mist and saw the ripples of water change. Near the shores of Valinor, you could see the very bottom of the sea even though it would lay fathoms and fathoms deep. The water was so clear that even at that depth you could see the shadow of the vessel in which you sailed on the soft ocean floor. Now as they drew further and further away from the Blessed Realm, the water began to change and become dense and blurred and you could no longer see the bottom. And you could smell a change as well. Where before on Valinor there was the scent of fresh water and sweet growing things in the air, there was now the scent of salt and sand. It was not an unpleasent change, Frodo had thought. Just different.  
  
As Frodo turned his head now towards the way of the Straight Road that they would be taking in a day or so, he noticed dolphins swimming along side the ship and leaping into the air playfully as they sped along. He sat and thought of all the many things he had seen in his life, both on land and sea, and thought that even though these many sights where indeed beautiful, he thought he'd never again see anything as beautiful as his Sam, tending the garden of Bag End, or smiling at him over a pipe of Old Toby. The Hobbit suddenly felt inspired. A song he had made that morning sitting beside the Sea crept up from his heart and passed through his lips in a whimsical tune that was light yet full of longing.  
_  
I settle beside the Sea and think  
Of all the things I'd seen  
Of wondrous caves in mountains tall  
Of woods so evergreen.  
  
I think of field, of hill, and river.  
I think of moonlit skies.  
But not one wonder I'd seen could try  
To match your perfect eyes.  
  
I long much to see your smile, your walk,  
Your voice sweet like a psalm.  
I dream of smiles and a friendly touch,  
Your palm against my palm.  
  
I think of times we'd spent together,  
Of many meals we shared,  
Of late nights spent singing by the fire  
That showed me that you cared.  
  
I recall times of love filled silence,  
Of walks through golden trees,  
Of tranquil talks in field or on hill,  
And tears shed by the Sea.  
  
I settle beside the Sea and think  
Of you so far away,  
And how much I long to hold, and kiss,  
And love you every day._  
  
Of course he knew he was thinking about Sam, though some of the Elves on board wondered at the song's meaning. Gandalf simply smiled warmly at the Hobbit, and turned his attention again to the rolling sea. Frodo thought about the song for a moment and found that now it in no way did justice to how he felt, especially now that he was finally returning to the very place that had been so far away in his song.  
  
Suddenly and laugh reached his ears, and for a moment he was sure it had been the dolphines. But when again it came, he realized that sounded more like the voice of a woman, in fact many women. He was overcome with curiosity as he leaned his head over the edge of the ship and saw something that was so surprising, his mouth dropped open and stayed that way. There below them in the now salty sea waters, splashing and diving among the dolphines, where the figures of women, each with a different hue of skin, and all with long fish tails and fins where their feet should have been. The Sea Elves where swimming mightly along side the ship, and they were laughing amongst themselves.  
  
"Sing it again, little master!" cried a black haired, blue skinned Sea Elf-maid up to him.  
  
Gandalf peered over the edge at the group. A roar of squeels of delight and curiousity went up from the maids at the sight of his pointed hat and long white beard nearly spilling over the edge of the ship. They rolled about the waves and leapt into the air in the same manner as the dolphins. "Well met, mistresses of the Seas!" he greeted. "What brings you to us that you'd follow our ship so far and swiftly?"  
  
"Love!" some exclaimed joyfully. "Boredom!" cried others.  
  
"Sing to us thy song again!" the black haired maid called up again to Frodo. They were giggling teasingly, but not in an unkindly way. In fact, many of the Sea Elves looked very interested in hearing his little attempt at a song again. "We pleasure in thy lay of love! Come now! Let us hear it again!"  
  
"I think not, my merry Sea Elves," Frodo called down to them. "For I grow hungry and must take breakfast before I faint."  
  
Sweet laughter rang up throughout the leaping and splashing Sea Elf-maids, and it made Frodo smile to hear it. "Then thou must take thy meat quickly!" warned the black haired Sea maid with a knowing smile. "A storm comes! Food stores may be lost! We came to warn thee of thy peril! The waters of the Sundering Sea are not as loving and peaceful as those of the shores of Valinor."   
  
Gandalf heard this and turned sharply in the direction the Sea Elves motioned to. Frodo heard him take a sharp breath, his brow furrowing in concern. Frodo gazed in that direction and at first he saw nothing, then at last saw the darker clouds that seemed to move towards them even as they watched. "Our thanks, ladies of the waters!" Gandalf called down to them. "We shall not forget this kindness." The Elves were all ready making ready to try and steer clear of the storm.  
  
"We shall not forget it either!" the Sea Elves giggled and sang, and the dolphins seemed to let out chuckles of their own.  
  
"We shall met again!" the black haired Sea maid shouted up to Frodo. "Keep singing, young lover! Never stop singing!" And then just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone, diving back down into their watery homes. The Sea Elves were a merry, playful race, much less solomn than their land dwelling cousins. They enjoyed playing among the waves and singing to ships and land dwellers, often unwittingly lurering with their sweet voices many a careless male to their deaths. Yet there was no malice among them, no intent of harm. They loved all races and helped sailors by warning them of oncoming storms, just as they had done now.  
  
The storm still seemed far off, but Frodo chose to go below deck, have something to eat, and sleep through it. He was weary and in need of rest, for he had not slept since Bilbo passed on the night before. After finishing a light first breakfast, Frodo settled into one of the beds and as he listened to the sound of waves rolling outside, his eyes were soon closed and he fell alseep to the fair rocking of the ship. And he long felt afterwords that he had not had a better slumber in fifteen years.  
  
  
"Another Orc attack..." Sam frowned at the Shire Chronicle newspaper he had taken to reading every morning as his wife went about making first breakfast with Elanor's assistance. The other children were trancing about the house, getting ready for the day ahead of them.  
  
"What's that, dear?" Mrs. Rose Gardner asked at the disturbed tone in his voice, but not hearing what had been said.  
  
"There's been another Orc attack. This time the victim was a lass, Garnett Hilldweller. It says here that she barely escaped with the hair on her feet."  
  
"How awful!" Elanor was heard exclaiming from within the kitchen.  
  
"It's gettin' so a body can't take a walk about her own neighborhood without having to be constantly lookin' behind her!" Rosie agreed with her eldest daughter.  
  
"Aye..." Sam said gravely. "To think that this should start happenin' again, even after the War..."  
  
"Oh, do tell us some about of the War, Daddy!" Goldilocks hopped in her chair, smiling eagerly and blonde curls bouncing.  
  
"Now, now," Rose spoke up as she waddled through the kitchen to set some plates on the table. "I won't have anymore talk of unpleasent things at my breakfast table."  
  
Sam folded up the newspaper with a shake of the head. His wife always managed to find a reason to avoid talk of the War, whether it be breakfast or otherwise. He couldn't really blame her, he supposed. It was for the most part an uncomfortable experiance, but he should have liked to sit down with the Red Book one of those days and read some of Mr. Bilbo's and Mr. Frodo's passages, just as Frodo had wanted him to do. But he decided that he would wait until most of his children were old enough to understand the story and the lesson it was meant to give. So he let Rosie make excuses for the children.  
  
Goldilocks pouted cutely. The lass was always one for a good story, even of the unpleasent type, as long as her father was in it. She was wholly a daddy's girl and thought that her father was the wisest and best person in the world. Anything that involved her father was worth hearing about to her. She had to practicly threaten Frodo with hiding his beloved flute to get any information at all about the War. Frodo was always the closest to their father, along with Elanor, and everyone knew it.  
  
Frodo-lad himself had only found little bits through much prying into Sam's private things. He once came upon the Red Book while his father had been away in Michel Delvings, and he was only able to get as far as the last part of Old Bilbo's adventure and the beginning of the War before his mother caught him and pulled him out of the study by the ear. He was curious as anything to learn about the Frodo character he had only just begun to read about. He knew that he had been named after the former Master of Bag End, but he hadn't an idea beyond that who this person was and why his father had looked so sad when he asked him about it.  
  
"So is that what you'll be workin' on when you leave today?" the lad asked in referance to the Orc attack as he helped his mother set the table. Sam looked up and smiled warmly at him, causing another smile to appear on his own face.  
  
"Yes, my boy. People will be wantin' answers after this, and for the moment I'm afraid I have none to offer. But it's nothing you need worry yourself about, lad."  
  
"When will we be starting school again, Mum?" Rose-lass asked from her seat next to Goldilocks, unintentionally changing the subject to more comfortable topics.  
  
"In two months time, dearest," Mrs. Gardner said as she and Elanor came in with the meal they had prepared, Rose almost looking as if she were balancing her stray atop her growing, rounded belly.  
  
"I don't want to go to school!" Merry-lad came striding in, followed by little Pippin, both following the smell of food from the hallway.  
  
"No school!" Pippin echoed his elder brother.  
  
"Hush now," Elanor chided, serving the children helpings of eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and toast with jam as her mother settled down gingerly into her own chair next to her husband. "All hobbits lads and lasses have to go to school to learn thier numbers and the essential words for living. Everyone knows that."  
  
"But we want to be able to play all day!" Merry stated with much energy.  
  
"Play!" Pippin repeated, nodding resolutely. Little Hamfast clapped at his brothers' antics.  
  
"Well I for one am looking forward to starting school again," Elanor said as she sat herself next to Frodo-lad.  
  
"Easy for you to say," Frodo grinned, twiking her nose before she saw it coming. "This is your last year of attendance."  
  
"But I'll miss it when I have to leave," Elanor sighed. "I met all my best friends at the old schoolhouse."  
  
"I heard they were closing that schoolhouse," Rosie spoke up as she was feeding little Daisy and Primrose from thier high chairs.  
  
"Yes, ol' Heather Bracegirdle can't afford to keep it open, so she's retirin'," Sam said in between bites of bacon. "Pity, really. I went to that school meself when I was lad. I'll be sad to see it closed."  
  
"Does that mean we have to go to the schoolhouse in Frogmorton?" asked Goldilocks, who had aboltuely no idea of the concept of distance.  
  
"Certainly not!" Elanor gasped. "That's a four hour ride by pony."  
  
"Oh," Goldilocks blinked, having no real concept of time either.  
  
"What about Overhill?" Rose-lass suggested.  
  
"Their schoolhouse needs to be rebuilt," her mother sighed. "Everyone has been dependin' on the Bywater school for such a long time now, they've never yet got 'round to repairin' it. I wonder what on earth will happen now."  
  
"Well, I should be able to find a way to keep the Bywater school open, if nothin' else can be done," Sam voiced, sipping his tea.  
  
"I hope you can," Rosie nodded, then suddenly her eyes widened and her hands dropped her fork and knife and flew to her swollan stomach.  
  
"What is it?' Sam stopped in mid bite and tensed, ready to leap out his chair at the first sign of trouble.  
  
"Oh Sam!" his wife looked at him with a joyful smile. "He just kicked! The baby just kicked me." She quickly took his hand and held it against the tightened skin of her abdomen. He waited a moment, hardly daring to breath, when there came a little beat against his palm.  
  
"That's a right strong lad we got there," a grin spread itself across Sam's face. Rose was simply glowing.  
  
"It could be a girl, Daddy," Goldilocks reminded him.  
  
"That it could, me dear," Sam agknowlegded, settling back down to finish his meal.  
  
"Boys are better," Merry stated as if it were a very well known fact.  
  
"Better," Pippin nodded in agreement.  
  
"No, girls are!" Goldilocks argued with her older brothers.  
  
"Boys!" the two insisted.  
  
"Girls!" Goldilocks protested.  
  
"Now stop it, you three," Elanor scolded. "Eat your breakfast."  
  
"You ain't the boss of me!" Merry puffed out his chest. Frodo chuckled as Pippin mimicked his brother.  
  
"But I am, and I say you shall stop this arguing and finish your food," Rosie inserted firmly as Hamfast laughed.  
  
Sam leaned back in his chair and beamed at his family. By Elbereth, did he love them dearly. He thanked the powers that be everyday for being so blessed with them. He sat and watched as his nine children finished their mother's cooking eagerly without any more arguement. Once they were all finished, they leapt to wash up before going outside, giving a kiss to their mother along the way and thanking her for the wonderful meal. Sam himself went to gather his papers from the Study and made ready for the day's work. He had a meeting with several important hobbits from the Michel Delvings office. It was on the way out that Frodo-lad caught him.  
  
"Why aren't you out playin' with your friends already, me lad?" Sam asked the teenager.  
  
Frodo shuffled his furry feet. "They can wait. I just wanted to wish you luck. I know that all those mayor duties can be hecktic at times."  
  
"That's very kind of you to say, Frodo," Sam bent down and gave his son a hug. "I'll be back before sunset for sure, and then we can work in the garden like you wanted."  
  
"Sure, Dad," Frodo nodded against his father shirt before being released. With another smile, the Master of Bag End walked out and mentally prepared himself for the day ahead.  
  
  
It was late evening when the white ship finally passed through the storm and the waters of the Sundering Seas calmed. Upon waking from his long slumber, the first thing that Frodo Baggins saw when he opened his eyes was another pair of eyes, bright blue eyes with wide black slits for pupils, staring right into his own blue irises. The Hobbit let out a starled yelp and flung himself back, nearly hitting the wooden wall on the left side of his bed. When at last the sleep had been rubbed completely out of his eyes, he saw that the owner of the eyes was in fact a cat, a grey tabby, which had continued to stare at him and hardly blinked when he had cried out.  
  
As he moved to sit up, the cat chose to leap onto the bed and move into his lap, meowing for attention. It was then that he noticed that the feline was completely soaked, from head to foot, in salt water.  
  
"Well, how on earth did you get on this ship, little one?" Frodo said with a smile, having fully recovered from his surprise. The cat simply looked at him expectantly. He looked about him for a cloth of some sort to dry the poor creature, and upon finding one, began to rub the cat's body down. It remained perfectly still as the Hobbit ministered to it. Frodo didn't really know why he was towel drying a stray cat, only that it should be done. "Did you get onto the ship from Valinor? I didn't know the Elves kept cats on their island." The cat blinked at him and meowed.  
  
"Are you awake, Master Periannath?" came the voice of one of the Elves as he stepped down into the room and gazed at him.  
  
"Yes I am, Master Elf," Frodo yawned, stilling stroking the drying fur of the feline on his lap. "What time is it?"  
  
"You slept rather deeply, small one," the Elf grinned. "It is now nearly 10:00 in the evening. We are nearing the shores of the Grey Havens."  
  
Frodo's eyes widened and his hand stilled upon the cat. "I slept for fourteen hours?"  
  
"You must have been very weary in body and heart to have slept through such a storm as we have had to weather through," the Elf laughed at the Hobbit's dumbfounded expression. "But be at ease. The storm has passed. Would you like to take your supper here? There is still the whole night to wait before we dock at the Grey Havens and you take your leave of us."  
  
Frodo's heart catapulted into rapid beating at the thought of coming back to Middle-earth after 15 years of being away. Suddenly doubt washed over his mind like black water. Was he really ready to go back? So much must have changed since the time he left the Shire, so many years ago now. How indeed could he ever expect things to be the same? What if he was making a terrible mistake?  
  
The cat at his lap meowed and rubbed it's head against his hand, demanding more affection. He was suddenly brought out of his thoughts and realized that the Elf was still standing there, waiting for an answer to his question. The Hobbit swallowed slowly before speaking.  
  
"Yes, I think I should like to eat here, if it's no trouble to you," Frodo said as he started stroking the cat again, to it's pleasure. The Elf laughed and left with a shake of the head at the silliness of mortals.  
  
"What will I do?" Frodo asked aloud of the purring feline. "I hadn't given thought to what I should do when I return. I have no money, no hole to call home. Where will I go? And what of Sam? He will have changed, surely, and with him his feelings and thoughts of me. What if Bilbo was wrong about him?" A lump grew in Frodo's throat at the thought of being openly rejected by Sam. Was it worth it to suffer such heartache?  
  
Frodo had almost hoped that in those long years away from Middle-earth that somehow his need for Sam would lessen as well. He often thought that it would have been better if he had never fallen in love with his loyal manservant, his closest friend. Much agony would have been spared to the both of them. But time had not allowed rest for Frodo from what truley ailed him, the aching knowlegde that in the end the one he loved most had not chosen him. No, indeed, not all the blessings of the Valar could have cured him of that wound.  
  
But would it even make a differance if he returned now, walking in this midsts of so many reminders of past hopes and broken dreams?  
  
"Perhapes I should return to Aman..." he murmered softly, feeling the words clench up in his throat as they passed through. The cat called loudly to him as his hand had stopped again in mid stroke. He blinked out of darkening train of thought at the mewling cry and suddenly realized the futality of worrying. It was best not to think about such things until the time came. And if things turned out ill, he could always return to the Grey Havens to take one the Elvish white ships back to Valinor, never to return again.  
  
"It's at least worth a try, eh?" he smiled down at the cat, which was content once again with the attention he was giving it. He decided that he would trust Bilbo's judgement in this matter. It was the least that he owed for his oldest friend. He owed it their friendship to try and overcome his fears, to open up his long abandoned heart again to the warmth and caring of friends and family.  
  
And, he supposed, he owed it to himself to know for sure what might have been and to remember, perhaps, his long forgotton dream with hope.   
  


* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Dream With Hope**  
_by Talisha Hibdon   
  
_

  
_RATING: PG (future NC-17)  
PAIRING: Frodo/Sam  
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world was eaten by Smeagol. =D  
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle-earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?  
NOTES: This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how many chapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! ^_^ All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.  
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do. ^.~_  
  


**_Chapter 2_**  


  
  
The Lady of Night walked the world with silent footfalls, the stars shimmering like jewels off her dresses. Where she moved, creatures grew still and trees sighed. Rest was in her voice and it whispered of promised bliss to all weary ears. Her soft, lilting song of sleep, however, did not reach the Hobbit that night as the Teleri ship passed like mist over the waters of the Sundering Sea. His eyes, blue like moonlight reflected off clear, life giving lakes, searched the sea line unceasingly for a sight of green, solid earth, of Middle-earth.  
  
Gandalf came upon him without sound, yet Frodo could feel his presence without turning round to see him. Ever he looked outward toward the horizon, as if waiting for an omen or some sign to confirm some secret pondering or belief. They stood in silence for a long while, two old friends, both so very different from the other, and yet to seemingly be the same in many surprising aspects, both being grim of face and grave in countenance.  
  
"What aught I to have done, Gandalf?" Frodo asked suddenly, breaking the thick quiet which had momentarily hung between them like a dank fog. The uncertainty of years had come back to Frodo with full force as they neared the mainland from which he had once fled.  
  
Gandalf sighed, feeling very old, and leaned upon his staff as if he needed it's support. He of course knew what Frodo was thinking about, but it didn't make the answer that much easier. "I think, Frodo, that you did what you felt was the right thing to do at the time, and what needed doing."  
  
"But you feel that I could have done something else, taken a wiser course of action.."  
  
"Nay. If you had chosen to do anything other than what you have done, things might have turned out for the worst, and no one would have been spared of any worry or trouble, but would have been granted heartache that might have been far worse than what you are feeling now.."  
  
"So there is really no way to win in this, is there? Either way, someone is bound to get hurt..."  
  
"I didn't say that," Gandalf turned to look down at the Hobbit for the first time since their conversation started. Frodo looked up and the wizard saw dampness on his cheeks and a shimmer in his ever blue eyes. How much time would have passed in Aman, he wondered briefly, before those tears would eventually run out, along with all that was vulnerable and good within? "Action may not always bring happiness, Frodo, but there is no happiness without action. All choices have a chance of proving ill, but nothing happens in life that won't later prepare us for what is to come. If you had chosen to do nothing but sit at your study in Bag End for the rest of your life, both you and he would never have known true joy again."  
  
"But I haven't known joy in any case, Gandalf," Frodo bit out, his tone full of bitterness unveiled.  
  
"Then that is the question you should be asking yourself," Gandalf said firmly. "Whose happiness were you considering most when you chose to leave Middle-earth all those years ago?"  
  
This caused Frodo's tears to dry up almost instantly. "Sam's...." It was barely a whisper.  
  
Gandalf knelt down to bring himself to eye level with his hurting friend. "Then you should have naught to be sorry for or to regret, my dear hobbit. You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments when you have done things in the spirit of love."  
  
Frodo stared into the care worn face and felt that his heart might simply squeeze itself into a knot and choke at the conflicting emotions raging within. "It just... Gandalf, it hurts...."  
  
"It will, my friend," Gandalf nodded sagely, taking one of his shoulders and squeezing it in an effort to comfort. "That's one of the prices that comes with caring deeply about someone. Sometimes it will hurt. That's how you know it's real. But you may find comfort in knowing as you may be hurting, you have also spared him such pain."  
  
"That's the only comfort I have in this whole wretched business.." Frodo looked at him for a moment, doubt and pain mingled in his azure eyes, biting his lip red. "Oh, Gandalf!" the Hobbit nearly wailed at last and he quickly stepped up to wrap fling his arms around the Maia's neck, hugging his friend and sometime teacher. Gandalf took it all in stride and held his small form loosely with one arm, patting his shivering back gently. "Why ever am I going back?"  
  
"That is something that only you yourownself can discover," Gandalf intoned. "Perhaps you go to find an answer to that, Frodo. You go to find where your heart lies, where your home may be. And in the knowledge that you have come home at last you may, perhaps, find the peace you have so longed for."  
  
The sight of green earth creeping closer upon the horizon was unseen through the blur in Frodo Baggins' vision as he gratefully took in comfort for the last time from Gandalf the White.  
  
"That's all I want, Gandalf... That's all I could ever hope for..."  
  
  
Why again?  
  
Warmth spread over him like liquid light, caressing like a lover's hand, blinding as the sun in all her glory. Light as a feather on summer breeze he felt, glorious and fair. And he knew, even as the warmth slowly became even warmer, he knew it was all because of the eyes that gazed at him with such profound love and care, that it made him weep to look at their blue depths.  
  
Why must you torment me like this?  
  
Then he knew that the caressing he felt on his body was indeed from a lover's hand, soft and sure upon him, worshipping him with every touch. The wonder of it, of feeling those hands that he had known so long and held with such reverence feeling and knowing him with palms and fingertips, was almost too agonizingly beautiful to describe in words. The gaze of blue never left his as the feeling of moist heat traced upon his flesh, leaving a trail of fire in it's wake.  
  
Oh please... I can't bear it...  
  
Then he knew that the moist warmth was indeed a lover's lips, pressing onto his own, coaxing them into a gasp of long unfulfilled desire and want. Arms wrapped round him like a prayer, and his soul sang that prayer with the greatest sorrow and joy ever imagined. That same tongue which had spoken so kindly to him for as long as he could remember now with heated caresses spoke to his own of passion and love too great to endure. The warmth against his skin was now a burning heat that he never wanted to have cooled. Blue eyes burned into his with a deep fire.  
  
So beautiful...  
  
Then he knew the burning heat on his skin was indeed a lover's skin as well, pressing against him with an urgency he had not the will to ignore. Slick and yielding flesh that was too irresistible to go untasted was soon being given it's own due worship with his hands and mouth. To have it go on like this forever would be more Heaven than he thought he could possibly bear without breaking to pieces. He felt that he would shatter in any case if he didn't at that moment obey the demand of his body and of those searing azure eyes.  
  
I don't want to leave...  
  
Then he knew that suddenly, before both their desires could be fulfilled, that lover was gone, like a mist dispersed on the wind. The ache in his belly turned into a wrenching pain of lose and unappeased need, causing him to double over. Cold replaced the heat of the moment before and wetness was felt on his cheeks as he turned about, looking wildly for the only being who could ever bring true warmth and light back to his life again.  
  
Don't leave me again...  
  
Then he knew that the cold had indeed come from water, deep water that swallowed him whole with it's white foam embrace. Gazing up, he saw the shimmering blue of some light above the surface of the water, too far away for him to ever reach. The blue was like the eyes that had loved him so deeply, and he felt that his heart had been torn in two as he simply floated, weightless yet heavy at the same time. No lover's hand came to pull him out and save him from drowning in this sea of grief.  
  
Frodo!  
  
  
Samwise jolted up, gasping for lost breath and earth brown eyes wondering about the room wildly until he realized where he was. Rose lay with her back to him, still snoring in blissful slumber. The morning was just lightening and it's cool light filtered in through the drawn curtains of the window of the master bedroom of Bag End.  
  
Sam choked back on a sob that wanted to break free from his throat and he bent over, pressing his head into his hands in an effort to regain control of himself. How many mornings have I woken up crying, he thought to himself, feeling the tears squeeze their way out of his tightly shut eyes. His body was still very much alive with the desires his dream had conjured up.  
  
Realizing that sleep would never come to him now, he got up, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife, and headed for the washroom. There he heated water for an early morning bath and filled the tub, the whole procedure helping to take his mind off of the dream that had been haunting his sleep for the past fifteen years. But once in the water he could no longer keep the memory of Frodo's love filled eyes from driving him to pained tears.  
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam murmured softly, "why did you have to leave your Sam like you did. Why? I told you once, didn't I? That I wouldn't be able to bear having you leave me behind, that it would be the death of me. Then why did you think it right to go and leave me behind?"  
  
Now that's not fair, Sam Gamgee, a voice from within scolded him. You know very well that Mr. Frodo was in a lot of hurt and the reason he left was to seek healing over the Sea. It plain selfish to go on thinking about your own wants and needs when his were plainly not being taken care of while he stayed here. You should be pleased in knowing that he's getting the rest he deserves with Elves and Mr. Gandalf.  
  
Shame colored his face red as images from the dream came unbidden to his mind's eye, of holding Frodo in his arms as he never had but had always wished to. How many time had he thought about it in all the years he served Mr. Frodo. Always he would watch him through white rose bushes as he sat on his porch with his full red lips curled around a pipe, his skin appearing white in contrast to his dark hair, making him look far more fair than even the white roses he tended. Always he would dream of striding over to take those lips in a tender, rapturous kiss that would send them both flying into the heavens.  
  
But they only ever turned out to be dreams. Sam would never have dared to actually act on them. So he decided that the dream would simply have to suffice, dream that were without hope of coming true. How he wished sometimes that he could simply stay in those dreams forever. He had no right to think that way, he knew, especially since he was now married fifteen years with nine children and one more along the way.  
  
"Stop dreamin' up all this foolishness," he scolded himself aloud. "It's no use wonderin' on what might have been. He's long gone, and as for you - well, you're still here."  
  
When I aught to be there, with him, came the thought unbidden. Even in Mordor, you knew. You said to yourself, 'Never leave your master, never, never; that's your right rule!' And even Mr. Gandalf and the Elves had said to you, 'Don't you leave him, Samwise Gamgee!'  
  
"But he was the one who left me," he murmured out loud, tears coming back to sting his eyes so that he had to splash hot bath water on his face to bring himself back to his senses. But instead of calming him, the warmth of the hot water reminded him of the warmth in his dream, and that only caused the tears to flow more freely. With a groan of resignation, he wept into his palms, thinking that he'd better just let it all out and have done with it. "Torn.. torn in two..." he wept, barely coherent. "Frodo..."  
  
But deep down, he knew he'd never be done weeping over the lose of his Master, his friend, his other half.  
  
  
Frodo Gardner was determined.  
  
Some might have even said he was stubborn.  
  
In any case, he was not going to give up trying to read the Red Book, in spite of his mother's warnings. He had decided that the best course of action was to read a little bit at a time each morning before anyone got up, and be outside to greet his father and ask about gardening so that no one would suspect what he was really up to.  
  
The chill morning air caused Frodo-lad to shiver and wrap his robe tightly around him as he crept silently through the house in the early dawn hour. His dirty blonde hair fell in tangles about his forehead and his bright blue eyes darted this way and that as he passed the doors of his siblings rooms. He could have also sworn that he had heard water splashing from inside the washroom, but who would be taking a bath at this hour of the day? He shook his head and went on.  
  
Coming to the Study room door, he quietly picked the lock open and slipped inside, shutting the door after him. Once he knew that no one had accidentally woken up and seen him, he raced over to the desk where the Red Book always lay, worn from many openings and with many a bookmark stuck between pages. He opened the book eager and just managed to suppress a sneeze as some dust rose to tickle his nostrils.  
  
He was at the part after the Party, when Frodo Baggins, his name's sake, was having the discussion with Gandalf the Grey about the Ring. He read the poem of the One Ring at least ten time, each time the words soundly more evil and ominous in his mind than the last. He wondered briefly what he might have done in Mr. Baggins' stead if the old wizard had just laid the terrible news of the Ring on his own lap.  
  
Probably would have broken down and started blubbering like a baby, he thought.  
  
"What a pity that Bilbo did not stab the vile creature, when he had the chance!" Frodo Baggins said from within the story. The little Gardner couldn't agree more with that sentiment, from all that he had heard about Gollum.  
  
"Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand," Gandalf responded, causing Frodo-lad to pink slightly in the cheeks, as if the wizard himself was scolding him directly and not the Frodo in the book. He read on as Gandalf continued to say, "... do not be too quick to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends.... And he is bound up by the fate of the Ring."  
  
Frodo-lad frowned and rubbed his chin in thought. From what he understood about the Ring so far, it seemed to choose it's own master - no, bearer is a better word, because it was really the Maker who was the Master. Was then Frodo Baggins' own fate bound to the Ring's? Was his own father's then bound also? And if it was so, what was going to happen to Mr. Baggins? Would he become wretched and decrepit like Gollum before the end? Is this why everytime some gossiper mentioned "Mad Frodo" and looked at him funny, his father would get a far away, sad look in his eyes, as if he were wishing to be somewhere else?  
  
"Hope nothing happens to Mr. Baggins..." Frodo-lad murmured, reading on. Page after page turned and it was with increasing wonder that the lad continued to read as the Frodo in the book grew more solemn in manner and took it upon himself to bear the One Ring, alone. How brave of him, he thought, feeling an odd sense of pride in knowing that the person he was named after had such a courageous heart. I'll bet he won't turn out like that slinking Gollum, whatever the Ring does, he thought with a decisive nod.  
  
It was just at the part where Sam, his own father, was being pulled up by the ears by Gandalf, when he heard a noise in the room. The lad whirled around and his blue eyes widened to see his little sister Goldilocks standing there, in little pink robe, giggling at him.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here," she said, hazel eyes full of mirth.  
  
"How did you get in?" Frodo gasped.  
  
"You didn't close the door all the way."  
  
Frodo-lad moved towards his younger sibling and her eyes widened slightly as she looked past him and saw the open Red Book laying on the desk.  
  
"Goldy, you can't tell anyone about this-"  
  
"Is that Daddy's Book?"  
  
"Yes, but-"  
  
"Mommy's going to throw a fit when she-"  
  
"No!" Frodo winced and covered his mouth, afraid that his outburst might have disturbed someone in the smail. "Goldy, please. You can't tell anyone I've been here, especially Mum."  
  
"Why shouldn't I?" Goldilocks grinned. "You aren't the boss of me."  
  
Frodo-lad bent down to kneel on his heels and look the little girl in the eye. "If you keep this a secret, I'll tell you the stories about the War that I'll read from this book."  
  
"You mean stories about Daddy?" Goldilocks' face lit up.  
  
"Aye, to the very last detail," Frodo reassured, smiling.  
  
"Yay-" Goldilocks started to shout but her older brother quickly clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her. When they were both sure no one had heard them, Frodo-lad let out a sigh and released his sister.  
  
"Come on then, Goldy," Frodo-lad sighed, closing the book gently and putting it back in it's place. "Let's see if Dad is up yet."  
  
Goldilocks took her brother Frodo-lad's hand in a show of childish affection and the two Gardner children crept out of the room as silently as the chill morning wind.  
  
  
The Hobbit watched in silence as the white ship sailed out of view like a fading dream. He stood alone upon the shores of the Grey Havens, with nothing but a pony laden with food and essentials for a long journey. How every strange it felt to him now, to be standing once more on the other side of the Sea, looking in the opposite direction in which he always looked out from the beaches of the Blessed Realm. The sun rising slowly into the lightening sky, and the birds were already out and about their trees, singing the same song of "Oh sweet Middle-earth, Middle-earth, Middle-earth!" that they had always sung.  
  
"Goodbye then, dear Gandalf," Frodo Baggins whispered to the wind, somehow knowing that the wizard would be able to hear it. "Perhaps we may meet again before all else is over.."  
  
At last he turned about and made ready to prepare some breakfast. He found a clear place to start a campfire and soon found that he was having trouble getting the pile of driftwood he had found to kindle. After almost half an hour of trying, me managed to get a small fire going.  
  
Small though it may have been, the sight of it broke a great deal of pleasure to Frodo and he smiled at the licking red tongues. It had been such a very long time since he had lit his own fire. Too long. When was the last time he had - when he first left Middle-earth? No, it was even before that. Sam had insisted on doing nearly everything for him since even before they returned to the Shire. So when was it? Minas Tirith? No, before that - Mordor?  
  
Frodo frowned at the memory, or rather lack thereof. The whole time he had spent in Mordor has become more like a blur that only cleared in his deepest nightmares. They woud wake him up and leave him screaming in the middle of the night, then left his memory again before he could recall what exactly it was that had frightened him so. But at least he knew that he was completely vulnerable during that time. No indeed, he was hardly in a state to do anything during those long, dark days without end. Sam had done everything for him.  
  
"Must have been since a little time after the breaking of the Fellowship.." he murmured to himself.  
  
Now you must try to realize why having lit his own little fire had in fact meant such a great deal to Mr. Frodo Baggins. It had been so very long since he was given the chance to care for himself, by himself, with no one's help but his own, that it almost seemed to him that he had forgotten how to. The sense of independence was one he had not felt since his younger days, when he used to run out alone to steal Farmer Maggot's mushrooms, back in the days before he met Sam Gamgee and fell in love with the simple gardener's son.  
  
"Nice fire thou hast thyself," came a voice, laughing and sweet from behind him. Frodo's head jerked up and he wheeled round to see a completely unexpected visitor. With long black hair flying wild and blue skin reflecting light from the sun, the Sea Elf-maid that he had met the day before in the middle of the Sundering Seas stood before him on two legs, naked and grinning with pleasure at his dumbfounded expression.  
  
"W-what-" Frodo sputtered out, causing the Sea Elf to throw back her head with a laugh.  
  
"Thou look surprised, little master. Did not I say to thee that we should meet again soon?"  
  
"Y-yes, but - but-"  
  
"Speak not if thy tongue doesn't know what to say," the sea-maid winked and moved to sit by the fire as if she had been invited. For the first time Frodo noticed that she had been carrying a fishing net slung over her shoulder, and in the net was a large supply of freshly caught fish. "I have brought thee some breakfast. Shall we partake?"  
  
Frodo opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out, so he simply nodded. The sea-maid smiled and placed five fish on a stick to cook over the fire. He sat down on a log rather unsteadily, still trying to get used to seeing blue naked lady sitting next to him cooking fish as if this sort of thing was supposed to happen. He drank water from his waterskin hastily, and after many moments of deliberate mental exercises, Frodo was at last able to look at the Sea Elf's form without turning red.  
  
Upon looking closer, Frodo realized that her hair actually wasn't really hair at all, but more of a type of living fiber not unlike the feelers on some insect or coral life. There were thousands of the feeler fibers, curled into an untamed mass of black that from further away appeared to be thick hair. The hair moved at times as if some wind was blowing though it, yet he could tell that it had been of it's own accord.  
  
Glancing down at the Sea Elf's new legs, he made another discovery. Stuck to the blue skin in dried flakes were long pieces of what appeared to by dried up skin, like the old skin a snake might shed, scaled and transparent. Yet the new skin of her legs were not scaled but as smooth as his own, whatever the color may have been.  
  
"Go on, then. Ask me," the voice of the sea-maid, abruptly dragging him out of his pondering and causing him to look wide eyed at the lady, who was currently smiling knowingly.  
  
"What happened to your tail and fins?" Frodo asked more shakily than he meant to, embarrassed that he had been caught staring.  
  
"I shed it," the Sea Elf explained simply, turning the fish over so as to let it cook on the other side. "The tail skin dries in the sun, so it needs to be pulled off before one can walk."  
  
"You mean you've always had legs," Frodo said.  
  
The lady nodded, smiling. "The tail skin forms over them when return to the water. Makes it easier for swimming." She then noticed that he was pointedly looking away from her as she turned round to face him. "What troubles thee, little master?" Then she looked down at herself, puzzled until she realized what was bothering the Hobbit so much. She laughed long and hard when she at last understood, and that only caused Frodo's ears to grow even hotter as his blush deepened.  
  
To save Frodo the embarrassment more than for herself, she reached and took a cloak that had been packed onto the pony among other things and draped it over herself, covering all the parts that counted. Frodo looked exstreemly relieved and at last smiled back at her.  
  
"What's you're name then, fair Sea Elf?" Frodo asked politely.  
  
"Mine is a new name!" she exclaimed, pleased at having been asked. "I gave to myself only last night. I'm called Lune. Like it?"  
  
"It's very nice," Frodo nodded, and made ready to introduce himself. "As for myself, I am-"  
  
"Frodo," Lune finished for him causing him to raise his eyebrows.  
  
"How did you-"  
  
"Thou looks like a Frodo," Lune offered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Does thou not carry a burden still, little master? For that is what thy name means, of course."  
  
Frodo frowned and looked into the fire. "Perhaps I still do."  
  
Lune nodded sagely. "Go ye then to try and lighten the burden? Be that the reason thou has chosen to leave Valinor?"  
  
Frodo sighed and nodded slowly in agreement, bewildered that the Sea Elf seemed to know so much.  
  
"I like my new name," Lune said, suddenly switching gears again. "I spent all day thinking about it yesterday."  
  
"Do you Sea Elves always change your names constantly then?" Frodo asked, glad for the change in subject.  
  
"Only when we change ourselves," she said. "When we change ourselves, we are no longer the people we were, and we must therefore choose new names for our new selves."  
  
"Well, how do your friends know you if you are always changing your name?" Frodo inquired, puzzled.  
  
"They don't. We become different people, and they would have need to meet me and get to know me all over again."  
  
Lune spoke in a cheerful voice, but the meaning of her words had not escaped Frodo's comprehension. There was a quiet, underlying wisdom in the Sea Elf's words. When people change, the people around them did indeed have to learn about the new person and get to know them again. He suddenly felt sure that this was a message meant especially for him, and he looked on the Sea Elf with newfound wonder.  
  
The cat he had woken up to earlier yesterday night showed up then suddenly, to Frodo's blinking astonishment, and rubbed the length of it's body along his legs. The feline purred pleasantly as it staked it's claim on the Hobbit by placing it's scent on him. "What.. Where did you come from, little one?" Frodo asked softly, picking the cat up and holding it gently in his arms. "I'm beginning to think you're following me."  
  
"He wants some fish," Lune said without looking up from the cooking fire.  
  
In spite of the odd nature of his guest, Frodo was actually very glad for the company that morning. They ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, the Sea Elf eating her fish straight from her hands and the cat curled up around his fury feet, feasting on it's own share. Frodo couldn't help being reminded of Gollum and his cravings for fish as he watched the lady make short work of her meal. Her fingers were webbed like a duck and the skin of it stretched like rubber as she picked out needle-like bones. When they were both done, Lune stood up and made ready to leave.  
  
"Thou hast a long journey before thee, does thou not?" Lune reminded when he had asked why she was leaving so soon.  
  
"Yes, I suppose," Frodo sighed, remembering what lay on the end of that journey and hesitant to start.  
  
"Now then," Lune grinned and lifted up the tabby into one hand to look it in the eyes. The cat didn't even squirm in her grasp. "Thou hast the eyes of a god. Thou shalt need a good name." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then smiled brightly. "Para! Para, protector. Does thou approve?"  
  
The cat mewed at the sea-maid as if in agreement. Lune smiled and  
set the cat on it's feet next to Frodo. "Now don't ye leave him, Para," she commanded, the familiar phrase causing Frodo to nearly stumble as he packed things up. The cat meowed and Frodo imagined that it might have translated to "I don't mean to."  
  
"Thou must come back to the Shore to visit us someday, Master Frodo," Lune said, picking up her net which was still quiet full of fish. She packed some of the fish into one of the bag on the pony for Frodo and Para to eat later.  
  
"Perhaps I might," Frodo said, not at all sure.  
  
"Thou shalt return indeed," Lune decided for him with a laugh. Then she handed him back his cloak and embraced him before he could protest. The smell of salt water and beach flowers tickled his senses and her hair-like fibers shifted near his face, as if feeling and smelling him as well. She pulled away, standing very tall above him, and tousled his normal, curly dark brown hair. "Find thy home, little master, and remember, do not stop singing."  
  
With that, the Sea Elf spun on her blue heels and strode off, back towards to nearby shore, singing a little song as she went.  
  
O Bumbling bright, ye children of light  
While Gods are at play,  
And Sea Elves laugh and  
Sing the day away!  
O to play and sing, a glorious sight!  
  
What a joy to hear, lays of love so dear  
Such a joyous treat,  
to sing and to dance  
How lovely and sweet!  
Sing then, all ye folk, with true love so clear!  
  
Frodo watched her until she had walked into the sea water and had dived in, and he could just make out the beginnings of her tail reforming around her legs. He shook his head, amused and baffled at the same time, and looked down at the cat, who was now called Para. It meowed up at him, as if asking a question.  
  
"Well, I suppose it's just you and me now, little one," he said, smiling fondly at the feline as he climbed onto the pony. Para leapt up after him and settled into a comfy position on his lap, making ready to nap there. Frodo shook her head again, a light hearted grin spreading on his face as he urged the pony forward.  
  
Things in the Shire may have changed, he pondered as he rode down the Road. Sam may have changed. But then so also have I changed. Lune has the right idea after all. They'll just have to get to know me all over again.  
  
The singing of the birds soon drowned out the cry of the seagulls as the Hobbit took his first steps towards home.   
  


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	3. Chapter 3

**Dream With Hope**  
by Talisha Hibdon

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_R__ATING: G (future NC-17)  
PAIRING: Frodo/Sam  
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world was lost in Gandalf's pointy hat. =D  
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle-earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?  
NOTES: This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how many chapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.  
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do. ._

_**Chapter 3**_

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"Oi.. Now that's an impressive one."   
  
"Be sure to grab it by the root, now. Don't damage it."  
  
"It's all wet."  
  
"Well, shake it off then."  
  
The afternoon sun was shining bright on the stalks of green leaves, light shimmering and scattering through the leaves of the trees. Merry-lad poked his curly head through the tall stalks of corn to spy out Frodo-lad and Pippin-lad hunched over, looking down at something.  
  
"What are ye two up to?" he asked of his older and younger brothers.  
  
"Nothin'," Frodo said quickly, eyes darting back from what he had been studying to Merry. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Nothin'," Merry answered just as quickly. The two brothers looked at each other for a long moment. Pippin chuckled at their expressions.  
  
"Carrots again?" Frodo-lad asked with a knowing look.  
  
"Mushrooms again?" Merry-lad inquired in turn. Both nodded. "I reckon Farmer Diggle isn't going to be pleased with you stealing his mushrooms every season."  
  
"Well, I except he'd be even less pleased if he knew you was stealin' his carrots, then selling them back to him without 'im knowin' it," Frodo retorted.  
  
"At least I'm making a profit," Merry-lad stepped from out of the corn stalks and Pippin-lad ran up to him, showing him a large mushroom they had found.  
  
"Frodo's teaching me which mushrooms are safe to pick!" the small lad piped up, looking very pleased with himself.  
  
"Finding 'shrooms aren't nearly half as hard is trying to a find a carrot that is just ripe for uprootin'," Merry snorted, trying to sound intelligent and mature.  
  
"Leastways, ye can't die from picking the wrong type of carrot, Mer," Frodo-lad responded as he turned back to the patch of fungus he had found.  
  
Rose-lass then chose that moment to step around from behind a tree, looking plenty annoyed. Grass was caught in her light brown hair, and she immediately stomped up to Frodo, poking him in the head with her finger.  
  
"You ass!" Rose snapped, but Frodo didn't even turn to look at her as she continued to poke him in the head. "You said you'd come and find me!"  
  
"Rose, we stopped playing Hide and Seek hours ago when we couldn't find you," Merry stated plainly, and before he saw it coming, Rose had strode up to him and took him by the ear, eliciting a yelp from the younger boy.  
  
"More like as not you stopped playing when ye found some vegetables to swipe," the lass scolded, earning another cry from her little brother. "Dad will hear about this when he gets back, he will!"  
  
"Oh, come on now, Rosie!" Merry squeaked. "Ye know it's for a good cause!"  
  
"Yes, rottin' your teeth on cookies from the Muffin Tin is a good cause," Rose yanked a little harder.  
  
"I like cookies!" Pippin hopped up and down.  
  
"Aw, let 'im be, Ro," Frodo murmured from where he stooped. "Farmer Diggle 'ill catch him one of these days, and that's sure to be punishment enough. He may have a plenty o' 'shrooms, but he really misses his carrots when Merry swipes 'em."  
  
"And you!" Rose turned to face him, letting go of Merry long enough to give him a chance to scramble away. "You're even worse than him, Frodo. You are supposed to be a role model for these brothers of ours, what with you being the second eldest, and here ye are-" she made a motion to the whole scenario with her hands, "burglaring mushrooms right along with 'em!"  
  
"Aye, but I EAT my haul," Frodo murmured with a smirk. "I'm an honest burglar." At last he stood up, a bag full of mushrooms. The patch that had been there before was nearly completely bare. "Besides, role modelin' is Elanor's job."  
  
"That's a weak excuse, Fro," Rose raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Anyhow, you're not one to complain, Ro," the lad's blue eyes flashed with mirth, moving to leave. "You enjoy these mushrooms just as much Mum and Dad do." He smirked and tweaked her nose as he passed. "That's why ye won't tell them." And with that, Frodo-lad walked off out of the field, head held high and quiet laughter trailing behind.  
  
"When did Dad say he was going to come back from Michel Delvings?" Rose asked Merry without taking her eyes off of Frodo's back.  
  
"Should be back the day after tomorrow," Merry answered, his own grey eyes locked on their retreating brother's form.  
  
"Good, because I'm going to kill Frodo, and I need time to think of an excuse for why he won't be coming home!" Rose growled and ran after Frodo, picking up her skirts to pick up speed.  
  
"Ho! Wait for us!" Merry cried out, gathering his own bag of goods and running after his older sister.  
  
"Yeah, for us!" Pippin echoed and followed suit, giggling at the prospect of rough housing with their older brother.

* * *

**__**

**__**

"Mr. Mayor! Mayor Gardner!" a small group of journalists with notepads at the ready, all clamoring for the Mayor's attention. Robin Smallburrow, a well groomed hobbit in a green suit with bright hazel eyes and a wave of curly brown hair, made a motion of silence to the group of hobbits that included not just journalists, but many a concerned citizen of Michel Delvings.  
  
"Now, now, if you please, everyone," Mr. Smallburrow said, raising his voice above the crowd. "Please, could we have quiet. The Mayor is about to make a speech."  
  
The group hushed up quickly and waited as the Mayor Gardner walked onto the small makeshift podium. "Thank you, Shirriff," said the Mayor in his most professional tone. "I would like to first thank all of you for coming today. Now, I'm sure all of you are concerned about the recent attacks on the Shire folk by those beastly creatures within the past few months. Let me first say that I have indeed dealt with these monsters before, long ago now. They are called Orcs. You may know them better as Goblins from old Mr. Bilbo Baggins' tales about his adventure away from the Shire."  
  
The crowd began to murmur at this, some sounding skeptical at the mention of the rumored mad hobbit's story book creatures, while others gasped in genuine, horrified belief. All sounded very concerned. "Hear, hear!" Robin Smallburrow boomed, calling for silence again.  
  
"You are probably asking yourselves why these vile beasts are choosing now to come from their previous dwellings to trouble us," the Mayor continued. "If I may, I do have a theory for that. Orcs, or Goblins if you like, were originally made from corrupted Elves," more murmurs at this, "and Elves, from what I've seen, have an instinctual need to come to the Sea and cross over it to go back to their own island safe haven.  
  
"Since the end of the War and the downfall of the Enemy, these pitiful things have had no will to guide them or give them purpose. Many have been killed, but not all, and these few survivors, I believe, are harkening to their deeply buried Elvish instincts to cross over the Sea. And as you may well know, Elves have at times been seen passing through the Shire while on their way to the Grey Havens, so it is more like as not that these Goblins are also passing through as they make their way there."  
  
The shocked and aghast exclamations of most the hobbits were cut off by Mr. Smallburrows silent gestures. "So then," the Mayor of Michel Delvings continued, "here's what I intend to do about this situation. Any hobbit who spots a Goblin about in the Shire must immediately report it to a local authority. The authorities will then attempt to capture the Goblins, alive if at all possible. Then it shall be transported to the opposite end of the Shire, closest to the Grey Havens as can be managed, and afterwards released. I won't have any unnecessary killing done on Shire soil.  
  
"Now, that's all I have to say on the subject," Mayor Gardner resolved. "I've already sent a letter of instructions to the Thain in regard to how to properly handle the situation, and hopefully it will become one less trouble for our hard working citizens to concern themselves about. Thank you very much. Good day." And with that, all the hobbits started talking at once, all asking a different assortment of complicated questions about what the Mayor had just addressed, but the Mayor simply ignored them and stepped down from the podium. Robin Smallburrow warded everyone off as the Mayor of the Shire retreated inside the Mayor's office and closed the door swiftly behind.  
  
It was a few moments later when the door to the office opened again and in stepped Mr. Smallburrow, shutting the door behind him. "Nice job, Sam. You got the whole town talking now."  
  
Samwise looked at his old friend and grinned, more at ease now than when he was outside with so many eyes peering at him. "Well, there's no help for it if they don't always like what they hear. What I have decided, I have decided. I simply won't have more blood than is need spilled here in the Shire. Mr. Frodo would have been against it, so I won't abide it."  
  
"Aye, but capturing one of those horrid things alive, Sam?" Robin shook his head. "I'm not so sure it can be done."  
  
"The militia is trained well enough, and we have some stout Men guardin' our borders," Sam said, settling into a large chair that sat in wait behind the Mayor's even larger desk. "More like as not we can handle it."  
  
"Well, yer the Mayor, so I guess you know best," Robin shrugged, preparing a pipe to have a relaxing smoke, Sam following suit. "Anyhow, on to lighter subjects. How be your lovely wife, Miss Rose, then? Is she getting on well with the baby?"  
  
"Oh, aye," Sam nodded, lighting his pipe. "Rosie has yet to ever run into trouble during a pregnancy, and I prey she never will. Yes, she and the baby are both well, thank you."  
  
"And the other children?"  
  
"All well and happy," Sam smiled around his pipe.  
  
"That's good," Robin nodded. "I should like to have a good wife and family as you have someday myself."  
  
"A wish as likely to come true," Sam chuckled. "You're a fine fellow, Robin. I'm sure there must be plenty of lasses with their eye set on you."  
  
Robin flushed and ended up blowing the pipeweed smoke out of his nose. "Well, maybe."  
  
Sam eyed his friend. "Rosie seems to think so.." Robin turned an even darker shade and Sam noted that he had begun to fidget. "Which reminds me, Rob. Rose wanted to invite you to Bag End sometime for a visit. It's been a while since we've all been together outside of work, especially since you moved up here to Michel, and she'd dearly love to have you for tea sometime when you're in town next."  
  
"Oh, splendid!" Robin sighed, leaning back into his chair. "I think I should like that. It really has been too long, now that I think about it."  
  
"Then I'm glad," Sam nodded.  
  
"Oh yes. Tell her I wouldn't miss it!" Robin grinned. "It'll be like old times. Remember when we used to take tea at my mother's smail when we were but children?"  
  
"I remember indeed," Samwise chuckled. "I recall how you always insisted on getting the largest piece of seedcake, and used the excuse that you used your brain more than both of use and deserved the larger piece."  
  
"Well, I was always the one that could talk us out of trouble," Robin smiled at the fond memories. "But then, ye didn't need me to do your talking for you anymore once you began hanging around Bag End all the time, just so you could follow around your Mr. Frodo like a puppy. Never could really understand what you saw in him, begging your pardon, and no harm meant to Mr. Baggins. But he was far too odd and aloof, if you ask me."  
  
Sam leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, I suppose that was all part of the - well, his charm, really."  
  
"Charm?" Robin raised an eyebrow. "I had always understood him to be rather shy, not charismatic."  
  
"Very well. Then call it appeal, at least for meself. You must recall how I was always attracted to things out of the norm."  
  
"Aye!" Rob laughed. "Oh that you were, Sam, my friend. Always talkin' about Elves and Dragons and all other such nonsense, even as ye grew older." Robin blew out a fair blue smoke ring that drifted out the cracked open round window. "But I suppose it was all for the best. Who knows what might have happened if ye never left Shire searching for Elves and learned all about fighting monsters and standing up to wizards and the like. We might all be still bowing and scraping at Sharkey's doorstep. Nay, I'm not about to complain about your interest in such outlandish matters."  
  
Sam sighed. No one ever gave credit where credit was really due, at least not in his mind. They might all be bent under the yoke of some terrible evil if it had not been for his own aloof, odd, wonderful Mr. Frodo. And yet, no matter how many times he corrected people of their praise of him and pointed out who really succeeded in the saving of them all, not one of them seemed to understand it. To the hobbits of the Shire, it was Meriadoc, Peregrin, and himself who were the real heroes, and Mr. Frodo had simply faded into the background, as if he himself had never had a hand in the events that came to pass.  
  
He sat puffing out a few more smoke rings before standing up. "Well, I'm right starved. Let's see about gettin' something to eat for elevensies, shall we?"  
  
"Yes, lets!" Robin hopped to his feet, looking very hungry indeed. The two hobbits walked out of the office, chatting pleasantly to each other, and walked into a nearby inn. If Sam had only chosen to look down the road not a mile away, he would have seen a figure coming down it, riding a pony, green hood cast over the person's head, and an inner light glowing from within that only he alone had ever been able to see.

* * *

Frodo Baggins traveled on through Michel Delvings without stopping. He rarely stopped at all, and only to rest his pony and have something to eat. The tabby cat Para slept on his lap every time they rode, but always when he stopped for meals or rest, the cat would dash off down the road ahead of them. Just before riding forward once more, when Frodo would begin to think that he had seen the last of the mysterious feline, he would come scampering back to the Hobbit, just as if he had been called.  
  
"Checked the Road again? Coast's clear and all's safe for a traveling Hobbit to wonder down?" Frodo would joke aloud, and the cat would simply leap onto the pony and settle on his lap for another doze.  
  
It had been several days since he had set forth from the Grey Havens, but already he was acutely missing the sound of the waves and the cry of the sea gulls whenever he woke up, not because he particularly cared for those sounds, but because those sounds meant safety, neutrality, life without worry for what others may thought, or how they may judge you. In Aman, he was held in highest regard by the Elves, not shunned but welcomed and blessed by all who knew him for his sacrifice.  
  
"Well, it is said that the hero is welcomed everywhere, except in his own home town," he murmured to the napping cat.  
  
Here, he knew he'd be judged. He had already begun to feel the burn of peering eyes and the flood of whispers in his ears. Had any of them recognized him? He had purposely kept his face covered, shadowed by his hood, so none might guess his identity. But perhaps that was the reason why the people of the Shire had been whispering to each other whenever he passed through a town. He probably looked very suspicious.  
  
Doesn't matter, he thought. They'll all realize soon enough who's suddenly come back after fifteen years of absence. Things cannot usually be kept secret for long in the Shire.  
  
And that was his main worry as he slowly neared Hobbiton. Sam would find out along with everyone else, and then what was he to do? Move back into Bag End? Sam would expect it, surely, but could he really handle being around so many memories and reminders of dreams without hope? Or should he try to find another hole to take up, call home? Would any of it really feel like home ever again?  
  
The birds sang welcomes, the trees whispered greetings, and the Hobbit didn't even realize until it was too late where he had been leading his pony the whole time until he was already at the front gate. Frodo looked up and nearly fell off his ride, cat and all.  
  
Bag End appeared nearly the same as ever it did, but to it's former Master, it was the most painfully beautiful sight he had yet encountered on his homebound journey. The garden just inside the gate that worked it's way around the corner of the smail was even more lovely than he remembered, alive with blossoms and greens that seemed to be singing sweet songs of the gardener's care as they lifted their faces to the sun. The path leading up to the front porch was tidy and well kept, and the round green door looked as if it had just been recently repainted.  
  
Frodo Baggins stared opened mouthed for a long time at the front porch he had once called his own, and it seemed to him as if he had fallen asleep and had passed into a sweet dream of finding home again. Spellbound, the gentlehobbit slid off the pony, Para crawling off him as he went, and slowly he took two steps towards the gate. His blue eyes were glazed, as if he were in a trance. To open that gate and that front door again! Oh, if only...  
  
Just then the door did open, sending Frodo springing back as if he expected Shelob herself to crawl out at that instant. Instead of the monster spider, however, out stepped a young girl, clad in a light violet dress and an apron, broom in hand, blonde locks of hair shinning like gold in the sun. The hobbit lass almost resembled an elf-maid, but felt more comfortable and down to earth than any elf he had known. The lass looked up at him then, right in the eye, and he saw that hers were a beautiful, familiar earth brown.  
  
Time seemed to stop, and all Frodo could see where those eyes staring back at him. The eyes were the same, the very same. So were her lips, red and smiling. He took another stumbling step away from the gate and his back collided with the pony.  
  
"Good day, sir," her voice called, melodic and pleasant as the call of the spring birds. "Is there something I can help you with?"  
  
She looked about fifteen years old.  
  
"N-no," Frodo spoke suddenly, hastily, climbing back onto his pony as if the ground were made of burning coals. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've lost my way.."  
  
This has to be a dream. Yes, a bad dream. It can't be real...  
  
"Well, then perhaps I can help point you in the direction you wish to go, sir," the lass walked down the path and stopped at the gate, still holding the broom in her hand.  
  
"No, it's all right," the Baggins said more curtly than he meant to, "I'm just trying to find my way home. Good day to you." Frodo immediately urged the pony forward, not daring to look up into those familiar warm brown irises again.  
  
Please, if this is a dream, I want to wake up. Let me wake up!  
  
"Well, all right then, sir. I hope you find what you are looking for. Take care!" the lass called after him as he rode away as swiftly as he dared without looking as if he were running away.  
  
How? How in Arda could he ever think that he'd find a dwelling place again under that roof? No, never. It would never be home to him again. He simply didn't belong there anymore.  
  
But then... where now in Middle-earth could he ever call home again? 

* * *

Elanor Gardner watched as the stranger rode away down the North Hill Lane, seemingly in great haste, and she wondered briefly at his behavior. He seemed to turn white when he saw her, which was hard to imagine as his skin had already been much lighter than any of her brothers or sisters.  
  
And why had he seemed so familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere before, although she was sure she would have recalled seeing someone who looked so Elvish. It had not been an Elf, of that she was sure. She recalled meeting the fair Queen Arwen not too long ago, so she knew well the difference between Elves and Hobbits. Even so, with his dark curled hair such a stark contrast to his pale skin, high cheekbones, and brilliant blue eyes, even she wondered momentarily if he had not actually been an Elf whose growth had somehow been stunted.  
  
Her thoughts were broken when she heard a high pitch screech coming from behind the Hill, and she had only turned just in time to avoid being run over by Frodo-lad as he sped past, laughing madly and carrying two sacks in his hands, followed swiftly behind by a red faced Rose, an irritated Merry, and a whooping Pippin.  
  
"Here, sister! 'Shrooms!" Frodo piped as he tossed a sack to her, which she barely caught in time.  
  
"You'll pay for that, Frodo Gardner!" Rose-lass snarled as she continued to give chase, and Elanor noticed that the lower part of her dress was covered in fresh mud.  
  
"Gimme back my carrots!" Merry-lad hollered after his brother, following close behind.  
  
"Give 'em back! I want cookies too! Cookie theif!" Pippin-lad brought of the rear, holding a stick as if it were a sword. "CHARGE!"  
  
Elanor blinked as they sped out of the gate and down the Lane, Rosie shouting threats at Frodo, who simply cackled even louder, until they were gone again in the trees. Then she shook her head and started on sweeping the path to the front porch. "Children," muttered the child. 

* * *

Days passed like summer breeze through the trees. Afternoon fell darker as Lady Night made ready for her daily trek over the world. People began to make their way home for the evening. Children were ushered inside by their mothers, and smoke rose from many chimneys as supper was being prepared. Still darker it grew and sentinels watched as a cloaked figure passed through their gates, just before they would close for the night. They stopped the figure, asked of his business in their village, and when they were satisfied, they sent the stranger on his way.  
  
On the figure went, pony following him close behind, on and on, until at last, walking down the Lane, he came upon a large door cut into the largest Hill in the area. The door itself was studded, yet it didn't appear to be threatening. The smell of cooking drifted from slightly cracked window like a promise, and the stranger inhaled the aroma deeply. Then, after a few more moments of staring it the door, he knocked three times and stepped away again. More minutes passed until eyes came peering through a small peep hole in the door. A gasp was heard and the door was flung open a second later.  
  
The Master of Buckland stared open mouthed and eyes shimmering with unbelieving tears of joy. The stranger smiled at him, and the Master quickly took him in his arms in a massive bear hug, lifting the new arrival off his feet as the Master was actually quite tall for a hobbit. When at last he was set upon the ground again, both Hobbits were weeping for joy.  
  
The stranger smiled. "Well, I'm back."  
  
"My dear cousin Frodo!" Meriadoc Brandybuck crowed, clasping his hands tightly, his mouth still hanging open in obvious stupefaction and awe. "What wonder is this? Or do my eyes begin to play tricks on me?"  
  
"No, dear Merry," Frodo shook his head with a grin and patted his younger cousin on the back. "It's real. I've come."  
  
"But what-!" Merry started, then he laughed heartily and flung up his arms in amazement. "Well, I am an overgrown lummox, like my father says, for keeping you standing on the doorstep when you must be weary from your long trip. Oh, bless me! Do come in, cos!" And with that he ushered Frodo in, signaling to a servant to unload his baggage from the pony and lead it to the stables. Para the cat leapt off after Frodo, sprinting through the door just as it closed behind them.  
  
Brandy Hall's ancient lobby was large, yet comfortable. The paneled floor was cool against Frodo's feet and as Merry led them in, he recognized the several hearths that burned warm about the room and tables that had always been there ever since he himself live in these same halls. A large, low sitting round table sat on a huge rug in the center, with many chairs and couches around it. They sat themselves on one of these couches, close to a glowing hearth, and the Master quickly called for some food and drink for the new arrival and himself.  
  
"Not that I'm not right pleased with seeing you back after all this time," Merry started, "but I have to ask. Why did you come back?"  
  
Frodo shook his head, still not quiet ready to talk about it. "Not now, Merry. Firstly, I should like very much to hear all about what you've been up to these many years."  
  
Merry watched his older cousin for a moment, a searching expression on his face. He knew well how secretive and introverted his cousin could be at times, even to the point of being unhealthily so. But he also knew you wouldn't be able to get any information from him if you continued pressed the subject in question. So, for the time being, Merry decided to humor his cousin and tell all about what he had been doing the whole fifteen years that Frodo had been away.  
  
Frodo listened with growing interest as his cousin spoke of the many activities he had been involved in ever since before he became Master of Buckland. He spoke of living six carefree years with Peregrin, with the occasional visit to both Rohan and Gondor. He spoke of meeting Legolas and Gimli in Fangorn when they had gone to visit Treebeard and the Ents. And also, to Frodo's pleasant surprise, he spoke of Peregrin getting married to Diamond of Long Cleeve.  
  
"Yes, Pip has a lad of his own now. Named him after the Steward Faramir, he did," Merry smiled warmly though his gold flecked hazel eyes shined strangely in the fire light at the mention of Pippin's marriage, which Frodo would not quite define. In any case, the look was gone a second later, replaced by blatant curiousity."I've noted that you've yet to ask me about Samwise. I wonder why that is..." the Master said this in a nonchalant tone, but his eyes revealed more than his tone had.  
  
Frodo shook his head. "What's to ask? I can already guess what has happened to him. Haven't I already prophesied it fifteen years ago? Sam is Mayor, and has already had many children and is living happily in Bag End. Is that not how it is?"  
  
Merry raised an eyebrow. "Yes, as a matter of fact." Though I'm not entirely sure about the "happily" part of it, he thought to himself, but decided to keep that bit of information to himself. "But what about you then?"  
  
Frodo blinked. Para the cat, who had settled at his feet, yawned. Merry sipped his wine and continued to look at him.  
  
"I mean, you have yet to tell me anything of what's been happening to you. Couldn't you tell me at least how dear old Bilbo is?"  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and felt his heart sink. "He's dead, Merry. He died not more than a week ago now.."  
  
There was a sharp intake of breath and Meriadoc leaned back in his chair, blinking rapidly. "Oh... Frodo, I- I didn't know.. I'm..."  
  
Frodo raised his left hand in a gesture of silence, the sight missing ring finger and the looking of weariness on his face making him look very old suddenly, far older than he should have managed with such youthful features. It was not unlike the look that Gandalf has at time worn when it seemed that all the troubles of the world were weighing heavily on his mind. "Don't fret, cos. He went peacefully, and glad for the rest."  
  
Merry nodded gravely. They fell into a tense silence.  
  
"But still!" Merry started up again, more eager than ever. "You've yet to tell me why you've decided to come back? Wasn't the Blessed Realm a nice enough place to live? Didn't the Elves treat you well? And why haven't you visited Sam on your way here? What is going through your mind now, Frodo? What made you change you mind from what it was fifteen years ago? What-"  
  
"Merry," Frodo broke in suddenly.  
  
Merry blinked. "Um, what is it?"  
  
"I... I can't rightly explain yet, but... Please. I need stay here..."  
  
The tabby cat opened it's eyes, twin sapphire moons gazing upward at his at his adopted master. Then he stretched and yawned once before he scampered over to the open round window, leapt onto the polished sill, and was lost in the darkening dusk. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Dream With Hope**  
_by Talisha Hibdon  
_

_  
  
RATING: G (future NC-17)  
PAIRING: Frodo/Sam (hints at Merry/Pippin)  
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world drowned in Galadriel's Mirror. =D  
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle- earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?  
NOTES: This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how many chapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.  
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do.._

**Chapter 4**

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The first time he saw him, he felt that he had been a dream for sure. He had been playing Hide and Seek among the trees that lay in a dense clump on the outskirts of the Hobbiton hills. He was named the Seeker, and Rose, Robin, and several other hobbit children had scampered of to find places to hide. After hiding his brown eyes in his hands for a whole minute and singing the customary song that went with the game, he had leapt to his feet and had started off, as swift and quiet as a fox hunting for conies in the woods.  
  
He had known the wooded area well and had always played there, so he ran about sure of foot, knowing the safe places to step and not end up catching on some up reaching tree root hidden in the thick layer of autumn leaves that lay on the ground. Even so, he nearly stumbled and fell over one such root when he spotted a flash of pale skin and dark hair through the trees. He stopped and gazed, knowing somehow instantly that this was not one of his hiding friends. Long dark lashes hid the Person's eyes as he bent his head over a book, for a He he must have been judging from the breadth of his shoulders and the clothes he wore, dark brown trousers and a ivory tunic under a brown vest. His hair was a dark brunette that shined healthy in the tree filtered sunlight, and his skin was much more pale and smooth looking than anyone he had ever seen before. The combination of dark clothes and hair made his skin and tunic seem to glow like a star wherever the sunlight touched him. He had an inner light that was almost blinding.  
  
Suddenly the Person looked up and he flinched as his gaze fell on him. It was only then that he realized that he had actually walked from out of the trees, edging closer and closer to where the Person sat reading. Looking into the Person's eyes, he felt the breath in him taken away. His eyes were the most brilliant blue he had ever seen, more blue and bright than the sky in spring, than light off water. He never knew that such a beautiful shade of blue existed. And now that they were focused acutely on him, he felt that his legs would crumble from beneath him at any moment.  
  
He had heard of creatures that made you feel like that, of course. Mr. Bilbo had called them Elves, and he dearly loved the Elves, from all that he had heard. They were both merry and solemn, wise and perilously fair. And as he looked at the Person, who stared right back at him, he felt sure that he was all these things and more. A thump caught in his throat, and a moment or so passed before he could muster the courage to speak.  
  
"A-are you an Elf?" He asked hesitantly.  
  
The Person blinked, looking a little confused by the question, and his eyes ran over him, taking in all the detail, the scrutiny causing him to shiver curiously.  
  
"No," he said at last, his sapphire eyes at last settling back on his simple browns. "Are you?"  
  
Now it was his turn to blink. He didn't quiet understand how anyone could think him Elf-like in any way. "No," he shook his head. They looked at each other for several more moments before he found the nerve to ask another question. "What are ye doing here all by ye'self?"  
  
"Reading 'Translations from the Elvish.' It was quiet here," the Person shrugged. "And what of you?"  
  
"I'm not by meself," he responded. "I was playing with some friends of mine."  
  
"Then why don't you go back to them?" The Person shifted to face him more completely. "They must be missing you."  
  
"They're hidin' from me," he shrugged in turn. "We're playing a game. They can wait a bit to be found."  
  
Then suddenly the Person smiled, and it was like a sudden burst of sunshine from behind a cloud, the effect of it causing a smile to break out on his own face. "What's you name then, me lad?" The Person inquired.  
  
"Sam," Sam answered swiftly, then blushed, having remembered his manners too late. He corrected himself by bowing and saying, "Samwise Gamgee, at your service."  
  
"Oh! So you must be Master Hamfast's youngest son," the Elf-like Person blinked, his smile broadening quickly. Sam nodded, feeling somewhat relieved that this person wasn't entirely a stranger. He knew who his father was at least.  
  
"Sam..." The Person closed his eyes briefly, lashes fluttering over his skin, and suddenly Sam felt sure that he must have been in a dream. The Person said his name again, more softly this time, as if memorizing it, and Sam felt drawn to his voice. Before he knew it he found himself kneeling right next to the stranger, as if he had been invited.  
  
"And.. what's your name, if ye don't mind me askin'?" Sam's own voice came out shaky, and his blush deepened. The Person, however, didn't seem to notice, and smiled again.  
  
"Frodo Baggins," the Person, or Frodo it now was, reached out a hand, slender and fair, and Sam grasped it with his own slightly soiled little hand, the contrast between Frodo's soft skin and Sam's own calloused palm startling. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Samwise Gamgee."  
  
"Just plain 'Sam' will do, sir," Sam grinned and decided that he instantly liked this fellow, and would very much have liked to make friends with him, if possible. Realizing that they needed something to talk about, Sam asked something that had puzzled him. "Why did you ask if I were an Elf? There's nothing Elvish about me."  
  
"Your hair, Sam," Frodo murmured, almost to himself. "You have beautiful hair." And it seemed to Sam that he almost reached out to touch it but had managed to stop himself before he did so. "You must know that blonde hair is not at all common among hobbits. In fact, I've never even seen a hobbit with such light hair before."  
  
Sam flushed and reached up to hold a golden curl between finger and thumb. "My Gaffer says it's because I'm always out and about outside."  
  
Frodo shook his head, dark curls falling over his smooth forehead. "Nay. I think there's more at work than just sunshine." The little boy beamed at this. "Why did you ask me if I were an Elf then?"  
  
Sam hung his head, unable to look the older boy in the face as he confessed. "You're eyes. I've never seen eyes like yours, begging your pardon." Frodo blinked in puzzlement, but Sam continued. "And not just that. Almost everything about you seems Elvish."  
  
"Maybe you're only discerning from far away the air of Buckland," Frodo uttered. "You Hobbiton folk are always saying that Bucklanders are a queer people, so perhaps that why I seem so alien to you."  
  
"Buckland, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"Yes, where I was born," Frodo nodded.  
  
Sam sat back on his haunches and thought for a moment, studying him with childish skepticism. "No, I don't think it's that. I believe it's-"  
  
"Sam! Sam, where are you?" Robin's voice was heard hollering through the trees in the distance.  
  
"Looks like your friends are missing you after all," Frodo chuckled and stood up, brushing fallen leaves from his trousers with one hand while his other held the book he had been reading. Sam had leapt to his feet when he heard his name being called. Upon turning back to his new friend, he noticed just how tall he was, a good two inches taller than his own father, who was a giant to his young eyes. Standing up, Sam only just came up past Frodo's elbow.  
  
"I guess... I best be headin' back to them, Mr. Frodo," Sam said with some reluctance.  
  
Frodo smiled fondly down at him. "Yes, you'd better." Then he took Sam's hand again and gave it a friendly squeeze. "Well, I'm glad to have run into you, Sam Gamgee. I'm sure to be seeing a lot more of you."  
  
"Sir?" Sam blinked up at him.  
  
"Well, your father does work for my uncle Bilbo, does he not?" Frodo winked.  
  
"Mr. Bilbo's your uncle?" Sam gasped in surprise, causing Frodo to laugh lightly, a melodic sound to his ears.  
  
"Well, actually he's my first and second cousin, but he has adopted me now, so I think I am in the right to call him 'Uncle'. I hope you plan on coming with your father sometime to visit me, Sam, my lad," the older boy voiced, patting the Gamgee lightly on the back. "You are the first friend I've made here."  
  
"Friend?" Sam's earth brown eyes lit up with delight. Frodo nodded and Sam nearly jumped for joy. "Yes, Mr. Frodo! I'll come with my Gaffer everyday to see ye."  
  
"Sam! Samwise Gamgee!" The calls were coming closer now.  
  
"Well, I'm off for a walk. You had better go and find your other friends soon before they give up on looking for you," Frodo turned to leave. "See you soon then, Sam." And with that he started off, walking through the trees like a fading dream.  
  
Sam stood frozen in place as he watched him leave and he barely managed to call out, "Bye bye then, Mr. Frodo. I'll be sure to see ye tomorrow!" And then Frodo was gone, and the dream ended, at least for that day.

* * *

Sam reclined in his chair and smiled at the memory of his first meeting with Frodo. Looking back now on his childhood with Frodo, he realized that his soul must have known that it would love him more than anything else, even from that very first day. The time came that he would look forward to waking up early each morning to getting ready to go along with the Gaffer as he made his daily trek to Bag End's gardens. It had been love in it's purest, most innocent form that drove him up to that round green door everyday, hopping with excitement as his Elf-like friend came to open the door, smiling fondly down at him.  
  
It had been a love without desire, without condition or limits - just a simple, pure light of the heart that would make him giddy whenever Frodo smiled at him and sorrowful whenever Frodo grew still with a quiet sadness, as he often did even in those early days. That little-boy love, for that's what it was at first, that had developed soon after their first meeting was, in his mind, the cleanest emotion he had ever felt.  
  
So what happened to it all then? Where did that innocence run off to? How much easier it would have been to live with the loss of platonic love than it was now, trying to live everyday feeling the emptiness in his heart where only his Frodo had ever been able to fill. Many times Sam had wished that he hadn't let himself be drawn into the wealth of kindness, sadness, and loving fondness that resided in Frodo's eyes. If he had only simply kept hold of his innocent child-like love, it would have been much easier for him to let go.  
  
Sam sighed and looked out of the window of his study, watching the blue sky grow dark with the dusk. But then, did he really wish to let go? It pained him, of course, almost to the point of being unbearable. But the memories of Frodo's smile and of the comforting touch of his undamaged hand to his was a treasure he held close to his heart. And he knew that even as the pain of that empty place in his heart till ailed him, he would not let go of those precious memories and feelings for all the stars of Elbereth.  
  
I may be still torn, Mr. Frodo, he thought with a sad smile. But I shan't always be so, of that you were right about at least. I can wait to be filled again, and I will wait. That is my dream with hope.

* * *

"And then Mr. Baggins cried out, 'Go back! Go back to the land of Mordor and follow me no more!'"  
  
"Ooohh, wasn't he scared?"  
  
Frodo Gardner looked down at Goldilocks as she lay huddled up in her bed, eyes wide as she watched him mimic and act out parts of the tale of the Flight to the Ford. He had been leaping and crying out all over the room and now looked red in the face from the effort. Goldilocks was absolutely absorbed in the story.  
  
"Well, yes, I suppose he was. I mean, the Ring was whispering to him the whole time, you know, kinda like that little voice that tells you to try and steal a cookie from the cookie jar, only much stronger and harder to resist. It was kinda like-"And here he rushed to her side and whispered harshly in her ear, "'Put me on, Frodo Baggins.. Put me on.. come, I'm the only one who can save you...' And then there was the Riders, holding onto his will, probably saying things like-"His voice changed again as he whispered into her other ear, "Come to ussss.. Give usss the Ring... the Ring.."  
  
Goldilocks squirmed away from her brother with a gasp, looking almost frightened herself.  
  
"Yes, scary, isn't it?" Frodo-lad grinned knowingly. She nodded vigorously, gold curls bouncing on her shoulders. "But Mr. Baggins would not give up! Nay, he drew his sword and cried out-"And here he rose his hand high as if he were holding a sword and cried out much louder than he meant to, "'By Elbereth and Luthian the Fair! You shall have neither the Ring nor me!'"  
  
"Who's Luthian and Elbereth?" Goldy asked.  
  
Frodo shrugged, trying not to look as clueless as he felt. "I dunno. Some dead Elf ladies, I guess."  
  
"Well, how could they help if they are dead?"  
  
"They couldn't, but the Riders were dumb and they didn't know these two ladies were dead. They were afraid of those names."  
  
"Why? What could they have done?"  
  
Frodo frowned. "I don't know. Make them take baths?"  
  
"Oh! Like Merry and Pippin! They hate baths too!"  
  
"Frodo Gardner!" Mistress Rose had opened the door at that instant, causing the lad to jump and Goldilocks to screech in fright, ducking under her covers. Rose eyed both children, then frowned slightly at Frodo-lad. "What's all this shouting about? Are you trying to wake up Daisy, Primrose, and Hamfast? Ye know they are all in bed already."  
  
"He was just tellin' me a bedtime story, Mommy," Goldilocks said from under the covers.  
  
"You haven't been trying to scare Goldilocks, now have you?" Rose continued to scowl at Frodo-lad.  
  
"No.. Sorry Mum," Frodo rubbed behind his head. "I guess I got a little carried away."  
  
"Yes, well I don't see how Goldy would every get to sleep from listening to your bedtime story with all that noise your making." Rose rubbed the bridge of her nose, as if she was feeling a headache coming on. "What story were you telling her?"  
  
"It was-" Goldilocks started, but Frodo quickly cut her off.  
  
"It was the story about how old Bilbo Baggins fought with the spiders in Mirkwood," he inserted.  
  
Rose eyed him skeptically for a moment. "Isn't that a bit too frightful a tale for a lass her age?"  
  
"Aw, Mum!" Frodo-lad rolled his eyes and groaned in such a comical manner that Goldilocks couldn't help but giggle from where she hid.  
  
Rose then nodded and yawned, stretching an arm above her head. "Well, I think story time is over for one night. Off to bed with ye." And with that she closed the door after her.  
  
Frodo let out a sigh of relief and plunked down at the edge of Goldilock's bed. Goldilocks at last peeked out from under the blanket and watched Frodo as he stared at the floor.  
  
"What's the matter, Frodo?" the little lass asked her older brother.  
  
The lad sighed and shook his head. "I just don't understand why she won't let us ever talk about it..."  
  
"About what?" Goldy blinked.  
  
"The War, Goldy. Mum never wants us to talk about the War, and every time one of us tries to ask Dad about it, she always cuts him off and makes up some excuse not to have the story told."  
  
"Maybe she just doesn't want to think about scary things." The little girl crawled up next to Frodo, who didn't look up from where he was staring at the floor.  
  
"I don't know, Goldy. It's all too strange. I just don't know what to think of it anymore..."  
  
His younger sisters rubbed his back and kissed his cheek, eliciting a fond smile from the lad. "Don't worry, Frodo. Be happy. And tell me the rest before I sleep."  
  
Frodo-lad sighed and grinned. Goldy had a sunny disposition that was sometimes contagious. In anycase he decided to take her advice for the present and try not to worry about such matters. But only for the present.  
  
"And then the Black Riders tried to cross the river," Frodo began again, much more quietly than before. "But they would never cross. The Elves used their magic to flood the river. It came like galloping horses of foam and whoosh!" He made a sweeping motion with his hands. "It washed them all away."  
  
"The Elves gave them a bath after all!" Goldilocks chuckled with glee, causing Frodo-lad to laugh softly in turn.  
  
"See what happened when you don't wash behind your ears for thousands of years?"

* * *

Para the cat stalked into the gardens of Brandy Hall, sniffing and scanning the area with his bright blue eyes like a lion on the prowl. He crept through the flowers, smelling its way, until a familiar scent was caught on the wind. The tabby's head poked itself out of the flowers and his eyes fell on a figure at the foot of a heavy laden fruit tree, sleeping the afternoon away into the dusk that grew around them. It was his Master, who had earlier gone for a walk about the gardens and had taken to napping under one of his favorite trees from childhood.  
  
The feline trotted over to the Hobbit and immediately set to licking his toes, grooming the fur found there. The Hobbit giggled in his sleep and kicked, but the cat gracefully dodged the flying limb and proceeded to continue with his grooming. Another groaning chuckle issued from the Hobbit but the cat didn't stop until he was practically squirming away, laughing breathlessly.  
  
"All right, all right Para!" Frodo gasped, shooing the cat away. "I'm awake already." The feline meowed loudly at him, scolding him for sleeping outside he had no doubt.  
  
"There you are, Frodo!" Merry's voice called out and Frodo climbed to his feet to meet his cousin as he came striding down the garden path, laughter in his hazel eyes. "I've been looking for you. You realize that you slept right through tea and dinner? If I hadn't a found you when I did, I would have gone on through supper and would not have spared you a single bite."  
  
"Yes, I seem to be sleeping through a lot lately," Frodo yawned and stretched his stiff limbs. Maybe sleeping on tree roots wasn't the best idea after all.  
  
Merry shook his head with a chuckle and clapped his older cousin on the back as he led them both back down the path and to the main entrance. "My word, Frodo, didn't you get any sleep in the Undying Lands at all? Did the Elves keep you up at all hours with their songs and feasts?"  
  
"Rest always comes easier, I suppose, when one is closer to home," Frodo murmured, secretly noting the irony of his words. As much as he loved Brandy Hall, it hadn't really felt like home, not even after nearly a week of staying there in comfortable peace.  
  
"Well, you are home now, my dear Frodo," Merry grinned, seeing no sign of the troubled thoughts that flashed across his mind. "And you can sleep as much as you want, as long as it's indoors!"  
  
The two Hobbits, close friends since childhood, took their supper in the main hall of Brandy Hall that evening, and they spoke long of past time together, of vegetables stolen, of pranks pulled, of hours spent by the fire listening to tales that the elders told. How much did they long for those memories to be reality once more. How much did both miss those carefree times, before so many things changed and were lost forever.  
  
Then the inevitable question came, the one Frodo had been trying to avoid speaking of ever since he arrived.  
  
"What made you come back?"  
  
The gentlehobbit looked at his younger cousin, ready to say something, anything, to end the conversation before it started, but he suddenly noticed the look in Merry's eyes, eager and resolute. He knew then there'd be no way to get around having to answer this time. Anyone who knew Merry knew that he would pester on as stubborn as a mule until he learned exactly what he wanted to know. Was that perhaps how he and Pippin were able to draw poor Sam into the conspiracy that set both cousins on a trek away from home which they had no purpose in treading, so many years ago?  
  
"It was Bilbo," he spoke at last.  
  
"Bilbo?" Merry blinked. "Was his death so bad that you couldn't stand to remain with the Elves anymore?" Then a concerned frown wrinkled his brow as a new thought crossed his mind. "Or did he say something to you that made you want to leave?"  
  
"No, it wasn't the fact that he died only that made me leave," Frodo sighed and sipped at a mug of ale that sat on the table in front of him. "I grieved, of course, but I was also happy for him... He.. He went peacefully, willingly even. He knew his time had come and he had no regrets." Frodo took a deep breath. "And neither do I have regrets in that regard. I was there for him, and that was all that mattered."  
  
Merry blinked, his frown deepening. "Well.. Then what was it?"  
  
Frodo closed his eyes and he could see in his mind's eye the old Hobbit's kindly face, staring up at him from his death bed, imploring him. He used his last breathes to ask him. How could he refuse? "He.. lived a good, full life. And he said to me, before he went, that he.. he wanted me to..."  
  
"Live a full life as well?" Merry guessed, causing Frodo to look up sharply at him. "Dear Frodo, do you really think he was the only one to have wished that for you? Nay, it was only he who had the nerve to confront you about it. To no one else, not me or Pippin, or even Gandalf, to no one else would you have listened fully, and we all knew it. You are one stubborn hobbit, Frodo Baggins. But luckily, dear old Bilbo was far more stubborn than you. I'm glad he managed to get the message through before it was too late."  
  
"And what message is that, pray tell?" Frodo grumbled, looking at his cousin warily now.  
  
"That you should move on," Merry leaned in, looking Frodo dead in the eye. "That you should accept what you cannot change and get on with your life instead of dwelling on it for eternity."  
  
Frodo frowned at Merry. "What would you know about it," he said more sharply than he meant to.  
  
Meriadoc laughed bitterly. "Indeed. What would I know. You can ask me that after having watched you for most of your life, secretly pining away for someone and never once speaking of your feelings until it was already too late."  
  
Frodo sucked in his breath sharply and stared at Merry with an incredulous expression. "E-excuse me?"  
  
"Oh don't be daft, and don't pretend that I am as well," Merry sniffed, taking a swift drink from his mug. "As if it weren't as plain as the hair on my feet that you were and are still in love with Sam."  
  
"Merry!" Frodo groaned, leaning far back into his chair with wide eyes.  
  
"Now don't you go running off into one of your hateful withdrawals until you've heard all I have to say. Unlike Sam, I will not tolerate it."  
  
Frodo's breath was coming sharp and fast as he glared with shocked blue irises into Merry's own gold kissed hazels. He did not move to leave, but neither did he speak, which suited the Master of Buckland just fine for the moment.  
  
"I already know what your thinking, and the answer is no," Merry started in on him. "Apparently no one else was able to tell about your feelings for Sam. 'Twas only I and Bilbo, who knew you best, that were able to see it clearly. Bilbo could see it for he had a store of wisdom of his own with which to call on for such foresight. I, on the other hand, was able to see it for what it was only because... I was experiencing the same thing."  
  
"You were what?" Frodo gasped, his four fingered hand flying to his chest as if he might have a heart attack. "You! You don't mean to say that you too - that you-"  
  
"Are you really that dense?" Merry's eyes widened and he leaned away from the table as if he had smelt something foul coming from that direction. "No, of course I didn't love Sam. That's not who I meant."  
  
"Then who did.. you..." Frodo trailed off as he wracked his memory for any person, lass or lad, whom could have possibly fit into the puzzle that Merry was presenting for him. Then suddenly it hit him like a bolt of lightning and he looked up sharply at his younger cousin. "Oh.. no, Merry, you don't mean..."  
  
"Yes," Merry nodded gravely. "Why do you think I've remained unmarried for so long?"  
  
"So!... You mean you.... And Pippin never..."  
  
"No. He never knew."  
  
"Oh, Merry..."  
  
Meriadoc Brandybuck took a last draught of his ale and sat back, looking into the fire light with that same strange shine in his eyes that he had seen three days before. His jaw was firmly set and his hands gripped the arm of his chair as if he were afraid he might fall off, ash brown hair reflecting gold from the light of the hearth. After a moment of silence passed like a river between them, Merry turned back to Frodo, his face set in a stern expression that commanded every bit of the Baggins' attention.  
  
"Now," he spoke softly, "I know you like to keep your own counsel about personal matters, my dear Frodo, but I suggest that this time you try listening to some well earned advice. Take it from me, someone who knows the pain you are feeling - no one better." At this the gaze of Merry's eyes intensified, becoming almost smoldering.  
  
"Forget of your love for him. Think on him fondly if you must, as a friend, but no more than that. He's living a different life now - we all are, in fact - and the sooner you start thinking differently as well, the better off you'll be. Dwelling on the 'might have beens' will only bring you unhappiness."  
  
Frodo stared wide eyed at his cousin with a shock that barely aloud him breath. Forget? Forget about his feelings for Sam? But wasn't that just the thing he had been trying to do for the past fifteen years in Valinor? It was impossible! But Merry's words held a ring of truth. He couldn't change what Sam wanted, and what Sam had wanted had not been Frodo. He needed to accept that and move on, as Merry had put it.  
  
And hiding would not help matters. He had done enough hiding in Aman. Isn't that why he came back then? To stop hiding from facts and return to living life anew?  
  
The two Hobbits looked at each other and a kinship was felt that neither had noticed before, shared in fondness and a common pain. Meriadoc Brandybuck, Witch-king slayer and Knight of Rohan, reached out and embraced his cousin Frodo Baggins, Ring-bearer and savior of Middle-earth, and tears were shared in their bitter comfort of each other. The Lady of Night passed by their windows but went unheeded, for Frodo would not sleep again that evening.

* * *

"Honestly, Sam, I don't know what's gotten into him lately."  
  
Samwise looked up from the book he had been reading to see Rose slipping into her nightgown, her swollen abdomen causing the fabric of the gown to stretch around it. He was already in bed, sitting up against some pillows and he watched as his pregnant wife plopped down heavily into her side of the bed.  
  
"Frodo's just being a normal lad, Rosie," Sam murmured, glancing back at his book. "It's only natural that he should be curious about things long kept secret."  
  
"But to go sneaking into the study like some kind of burglar," Rose shook her head, gingerly trying to lift up her feet onto the bed without rolling off. "Yesterday was the second time I've caught him. He actually picked the lock, if you'll believe it! Inexcusable." She looked at her husband as saw that his eyes were still locked onto the words of his book. She cried out in frustration and snatched it out of his hands to set on the night stand next to her side of the bed, well out of his reach. "At least give me the courtesy of listenin' to what I have to say and stop stickin' yer nose into some silly book."  
  
Sam frowned at Rose. He had been listening, but arguing that particular point would not have made a difference as his wife was in one of her temperamental moods again. Ah, the joys of pregnancy.  
  
"Ye could try talkin' to him, you know, and stop encouragin' him to be such a snoop," Rose told her husband flatly. "You never see Elanor acting the like, nor hardly any of the other children, although Pippin-lad certainly has his moments."  
  
"He wouldn't be inclined to sneak around, Rose, if ye'd only let me tell them about the War," Sam was inclined to point out. "It's been fifteen years. It's about time they learn a bit about their history."  
  
"But it isn't their history!" Rose exclaimed, batting the bed sheets with her open palm. "It's a history that belongs to the Big Folk and to all those other outlandish peoples out in the Blue. It doesn't belong to hobbits."  
  
Sam looked Rose intensely in the eyes. "It belongs to Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin, Rose. It belonged to Mr. Frodo. It belongs to me."  
  
"That only makes it worse, Sam," Rose raised her voice a notch. "Ye had no business leavin' me to wonder out into the Blue without speaking a word about it to me or anyone else. Ye even lied to your own Gaffer about it."  
  
Sam winced and looked away, his work-worn hands gripping the covers over his lap, golden locks of hair falling over his earth brown eyes as he stared hard at the floor. "I had a job to do, Rose. You know that. I've told you a hundred thousand times before already. I couldn't have left Mr. Frodo to go alone."  
  
"Oh yes, always so concerned about what yer 'Mr. Frodo' thought, what 'Mr. Frodo' needed," Rose bit out, tears springing to her eyes that Sam didn't see. "What about what your Gaffer thought? What about Robin? What about me?! I needed ye and ye weren't there!"  
  
Sam closed his eyes and lips tight over the barrage of tears and retorts that ached to spring forth from both. A sob caught in Rose's throat, and this time he did hear it. Turning around once more, he did the only thing he could think of. He opened his arms and took his wife into them, stroking her back comfortingly and kissing her curled locks of brunette hair that fell in tumbles about her face. She heaved softly against his chest and all he could do was hold her and hope that she would calm down soon.  
  
At last Rose pushed away from Sam, eyes reddened and cheeks damp from crying. Sam blinked at her, his face near expressionless. She turned away from that look and shuddered.  
  
"Sometimes I wonder where yer true loyalties lie, Sam Gamgee," she murmured.  
  
Sam said nothing. What could he possibly say in response? He could never make Rose understand that he was in fact torn, heart and soul. His heart lived with his family and were dearer to him than anything in all the world. But his soul belonged only to Frodo, and he loved him more than life itself. Rose wouldn't be able to understand that, he knew. And so he remained silent as he switched off the light on his night stand and burrowed down under his covers, feeling coldness from behind his back where his wife lay with her own back turned to him.  
  
That night, he dreamed of the cries of sea gulls and the caress of drifting beach mists.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dream With Hope**   
_by Talisha Hibdon_

_RATING: G (future NC-17)   
DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer telling you that I don't own Frodo or Sam or any of Tolkien's world was pushed into the Cracks of Doom. D   
SUMMARY: A drama in the works. Frodo decides to return to Middle- earth to try and find new meaning for his life without the hope of ever having Sam's love. But is there really no hope?   
NOTES: This fic may take a LONG time to write. I've no clue how many chapters there will be, but this fic WILL be long. Have patience and you will be rewarded! All feedback welcome, especially as this fic is still in the drafting stages.   
SPOILERS: If you have not read the Return of the King, or at least know how LOTR is going to end, you probably shouldn't read this fic, that is unless you peeps like spoilers, like I do. _

**_Chapter 5_**

**_

* * *

_**

Tears and rain were filling the air, gently falling on the sympathetic leaves of white rose bushes. A flash of gold, damp and dripping, a blink of deepening brown, warm and welcoming, stole across the garden to where he sat, trembling arms wrapped about legs slick with water, dark curly head bent over them as if they could possibly offer more comfort than the roses, sympathetic though they might have been. The flowers quivered and the trees sighed as if a loved one had at last come to make things right again. And just so, as the owner of gold and deep brown, who had indeed tended the green living things so thoughtfully, was soon stalking up slowly to meet the misery that sat forlornly before their feet.

"Mr. Frodo?"

Despair filled Frodo Baggins's heart like a choking black smoke. He assumed it had shown on his face as he glanced up to meet the sweet earth browns of the little boy's eyes, for as soon as their gaze met, the lad's face grew that much more concerned.

"What are ye doing out here all by yourself?" Sam Gamgee asked tentatively, creeping a step closer to where Frodo sat shivering among the rose bushes of the Bag End gardens, "if you'll pardon me askin', sir..."

Frodo tried to blink away the tears that were issuing from his eyes, mingling with the rain droplets that dripped from his soaking bangs. He wondered briefly if Sam would notice that all the dampness on his cheeks had not come only from the weeping sky.

"You'll be catchin' a cold soon, Mr. Frodo, if ye choose to sit out here much longer," Sam reminded him, taking another awkward step forward.

Frodo shuddered. "I feel so alone, Sam..." he murmured before he could stop himself. Perhaps his heart had decided to override his mind's struggle for reason, for it desperately wanted to accept whatever comfort the hobbit boy may have to offer.

"You aren't alone, Mr. Frodo!" Sam immediately forgot his shyness and plopped down on the ground right in front of Frodo, uncaring for both mud and water soaking through his breeches. "You got Mr. Bilbo, who cares right deeply about you... and ye have me too. Whatever made you think that you were alone?"

"My parents, Sam..." a sob caught in his throat as he tried to recall their smiling, loving faces. How long had it been since he'd seen them? "Nine years..." He spoke more to himself then to Sam, and his shivering grew worse.

The young lad's brow furrowed at this. He crawled over close and sat beside the tweenager, placing a meek hand on his back in an effort to comfort. They sat in a silence that was only disturbed by the unceasing downpour. Frodo felt Sam take a deep breath through the contact of their bodies as they sat side by side before he heard him speak at length. "You miss them terribly, don't you..."

Frodo nodded against his arms, his throat tightening over another sob that demanded to be let loose.

"I'm nine years old meself, ye know..." Sam maundered after another tense moment of quiet between them. Frodo was brought up sharp and he looked at Sam, though the boy was no longer looking at him but admiring the white rose bushes that surrounded them as if quietly listening. Samwise had been born in the very same year that his own parents had drowned to death.

Mouth set slightly open, Frodo watched as one in a dream as Sam took another deep breath and spoke again. "My Gaffer had been the one what told me about your poor parents drownin'. I didn't have the nerve to ask ye up front why ye didn't seem to have any folks of your own around, as you understand." He hid his earth brown irises as his lids closed to, long lashes sticking damply to his cheeks, a slight modest flush rising to tint his tanned skin pink. "When he told me when it happened, I was right shocked. That both events should happen in the same year..."

Frodo blinked rapidly, trying to see his friend's face through the blur of tears in his blue eyes. "But then I gave the matter some thought," Sam continued. "And I said to myself, I says, 'Sam-lad, this has to be more than mere chance... Maybe...'" and here he turned at last to look the older boy in the eye, "maybe I was born BECAUSE of what happened to your dear parents. Mr. Frodo. I think," the boy blushed slightly and cast his eyes to the ground, "that I must have been born to help you, to be your friend, so that ye wouldn't have to be alone."

The heart within Frodo's chest squeezed painfully at those words, so softly spoken. "Oh Sam..." he whispered, feeling tears falling afresh at the selflessness of the boy's statement. The hobbit lad looked up at him and, seeing that the tweenager had started weeping again, threw his arms around Frodo's neck, forgetting all about what was proper and socially acceptable when dealing with one's betters. His vision was blinded again as he was surrounded in the scent of fresh earth, flowers, rain, and Sam.

"Don't cry, Mr. Frodo," the lad soothed, using a calloused little hand, still slightly soiled from gardening, to stroke and pet the Baggins's hair, rain water coloring it black against his skin. "Your Sam won't leave you alone ever, I promise... I promise..."

* * *

It was simple, childish affection, but it meant so much more than that to Frodo. Sam would never know just how much that promise would affect him. Even though his was twelve years older than the hobbit boy, he had known instantly that he would never find a better friend than Samwise Gamgee, 'friend of friends' as Frodo would later name him. That rainy day next to the white rose bushes in the Bag End gardens had been the turning point in Frodo Baggins' life. It was the point when he at last came to peace with his parents death and had truly began to live again. 

Even as he sat up in his bed in Brandy Hall in the middle of the night, having just dreamt of that fateful day, he doubted, just the same as he always had, that he would have ever fully recovered from the loss, had it not been for a simple gardener's son's kind words, warm embrace, and an innocent, sincere promise from the heart.

The tabby at the foot of his bed stalked up to curl up on his lap, seeming to be completely unconcerned with why his Master was sweating and breathing heavily. He meowed up at the Hobbit and their sapphire irises met, shinning at each other in the dark.

I can't forget, Frodo thought to himself. I can't... and now I realize that... I don't really want to anymore...

* * *

" You cannot pass!" cried Frodo-lad, as Gandalf. 

"Okay."

"You can't just say, 'Okay.'"

"I can't?"

"No! You're a Balrog, a big ugly demon that wants to kill the Nine Walkers."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he's hungry and wants hobbit for dinner. Now, 'you cannot pass.'"

"Yes I can," Merry crossed his arms and tried to look menacing.

"Roar, Mer. Balrogs can't talk."

"Grrrar!"

Frodo-lad waved a stick like a staff in Merry-lad's face. "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor! You cannot pass!"

"Okay."

"You can't just say 'okay'!"

"Why not? That's a pretty impressive title you got."

"But that's not how it goes."

"Okay. No, Gandalf, I'm gonna eat ye and use yer bones for toothpicks."

"Merry, Balrog's can't talk! Growl, roar, anything but talk. Come on, work with me."

"Roar," the lad said in monotone.

"The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!"

"Who ever heard of dark fire? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of fire, to give light?"

"It's a figure of speech, you twit. Now, 'go back to the shadow.'"

"Fine, I have some goblins to roast anyway."

Frodo frowned. "Blast it, Mer, that's not how it goes!"

"I want to be Gandalf."

"You can't."

"Why?"

"I have the stick."

"Oh."

And so it went. Rose, Goldilocks, and Pippin watched as their two brothers acted out the fight of Gandalf and the Balrog on a grassy knoll near the Water. Play acting of the events in the Red Book had become a daily routine ever since the family discovered Frodo had been sneaking peeks into their father's book in secret. Their mother had punished him with no dinner or supper the day she caught him at it, but the rest of the children felt a strange admiration for their eldest brother cheekiness. They demanded to have Frodo-lad tell them every bit of the story that he knew.

Frodo always played the heroes - Frodo Baggins, Gandalf, Strider - while someone else, usually Merry or Rose, always played the villains: Black Riders, Goblins, and the Balrog. And whenever anyone tried to wrestle the best part away from Frodo, he would simply declare that he was the one who actually read from the Book and knew all the lines. And so they were stuck with the roles they were given. Sometimes he even drew their other siblings into the game.

"Gandalf, no!" Pippin cried out, pretending to be the Ring-bearer.

"Not now, Pip," Goldilocks murmured. "It's not time yet."

"Back from this bridge, or I shall plunge you into the abyss!" Frodo-lad waves his stick around mightily.

"Growl, snarl, roar!" Merry shouted, at last getting into the game now that he had a weapon of his own, a piece of ribbon that was wielded like a whip.

"Don't you get my ribbon dirty!" Rose warned, her normally tied up hair falling in loose light brown waves about her face.

"Then fall, spawn of Melkor- oof!" Frodo didn't have time to finish as Merry tackled him, causing them both to fall over and roll down   
the knoll.

"Gandalf! No!" Pippin squealed with delight.

"Fly you foo- Ai! that's cold!" Frodo's voice cried out from the bottom of the knoll. The children looked over the "abyss" to see both Merry-lad and Frodo-lad submerged to the knees in the Water, drenched from head to furry toes.

"Oi! My ribbon!" Rose exclaimed in dismay. Goldilocks and Pippin-lad were already rolling on the ground laughing hard and holding their sides.

"Merry," Frodo shivered, rubbing his arms.

"What?" Merry responded in turn, biting his lip to keep it from shaking.

"You'll never act in this town again."

* * *

"This is insanity, Frodo!" 

The late morning sunshine poured through the guest bedroom, reflecting off the fine polished wooden walls in a bouncing light that illuminated the whole room. The cat Para laid curled up on the wide four post bed, snuggled in the downy wide softness of the bedspread with the light reflecting off his stripped coat like silver. He yawned widely and watched with sparkling blue eyes as his Master moved about the room.

Frodo ignored Merry's protests as he continued to pack his bags with all his things, Merry taking out those things to place them back where they were before just afterward. "Don't hinder me, Merry.." he said softly as he stuffed a sweater into a bag, only to have it taken out and put back a second later by his younger cousin.

The former Master of Bag End had come to him that morning saying that he intended on moving back to Hobbiton, or at least some town near it, just to be near Samwise again. Merry was obviously completely against the idea, saying that it would be pointless and even cruel torture to be so close to someone he wanted but could never have.

Frodo didn't care, though. He had dreamt every night for the past two weeks, since the two cousins had had their talk, and every night Sam's face had haunted his dreams, memories of their youth, the only time where Frodo was truly happy. It made him long for those times again, and for the places and faces that went with those memories. And all of them lived in Hobbiton, so there too he would go, to both revel and sorrow in happy memories long past.

"Frodo, you don't have to go. There's probably no use in it. You know that," Merry insisted, reaching to take out another possession from his bags only to have his wrist grabbed by Frodo's four fingered hand. Frodo looked at Merry pleadingly a moment before letting him go to put some more clothes into his bags. Merry stepped away reluctantly and let the Baggins continue unhindered with his packing.

"Going back.. Living in the past... Frodo, your feelings for him can only bring you unhappiness."

"Then I'll be unhappy!" Frodo suddenly shouted, turning his eyes like blue flame to him and causing the taller hobbit to almost flinch. The former Ring-bearer was often a fearful sight when roused to anger, even in his younger days before the Ring. But then his face twisted into a pained expression that could have broken his heart. "But I CAN'T... forget him..."

Merry blinked and felt his heart sink. There'd be no way of preventing Frodo from going back towards Hobbiton now, he knew. "I... I just don't want to see you get hurt.." the Master of Buckland murmured softly, looking down at the ground.

Frodo sighed and stepped up to his younger cousin, placing a reassuring hand on Merry's shoulder. "I know, cos. But you have to try to understand..." Merry looked up and their eyes met. "What you are saying... about trying to forget about Sam and my feelings for him.. I've been trying to do exactly that for YEARS now. It's impossible for me to do this. Every fond memory I still have is filled with him. His presence is in every bit of happiness I have ever felt. If I stay here and try to forget him, I would also have to forget what happiness is like.."

"But if you go back..." Merry started, reaching up to grip his hand.

"If I go back, I will be unhappy because he doesn't care about me the same as I do him?" Frodo asked, and a strange smile crept upon his lips, sorrowful yet accepting. "This may be true. But at least I'll have the memory to hold close to my heart."

"Memory is not what the heart desires," Merry muttered. "Gimli told us that, and he was right."

Frodo took Merry's hand and led him to where they could both sit on the bed. He looked his cousin steadily in the eye as he spoke softly, stroking his hand absentmindedly in an effort to reassure. "Do you remember, Merry, what it was like when things were simpler? When all of us, you, me, Sam, and Pippin, were younger and more innocent? Remember how happy we were? I up in Bag End with Sam working in my garden? You visiting constantly with Pippin and causing mischief together?" Merry chuckled wistfully at this. "Remember all of us at ease, taking each day as it came?"

"I thought those days would never end.." Merry sighed.

Frodo smiled sadly. "So did I," he said, gripping Merry's hand. "Now try to imagine what your life would be like without those memories. Think. What if you couldn't recall any of it? Not one smile, not one embrace, not a single sliver of happiness long past or love once felt. How do you see your life as being without those moments to think back on?"

Merry blinked at his cousin, understanding sinking in like a ray of sun cutting through a thick fog in his mind. "I... suppose I'd be.. a very empty person indeed."

Frodo cast his bright blue eyes to the bed spread, not letting go of Meriadoc's hand. "I know that emptiness well, dear Merry. I felt it with every step I took in Mordor. The Ring had taken everything from me, every recollection of laughter shared, of songs sung, of touch of hands. I was left with nothing. Those days were the emptiest of my life, Merry. Even with Sam right there next to me, I couldn't see him. I was without hope."

Merry stared with a slightly horrified expression. He had not heard this part of the tale before, and to be told of it now clarified a lot of things. Frodo took a deep breath before continuing. "So you see, Merry, I can't just forget about Sam, or about what I feel for him. Memory may not be exactly what the heart desires, but it's an essential part of who we are. They are mirrors, as Gimli said, mirrors reflecting ourselves. I lost myself in those dark days spent in Mordor. Even now, years later, I have trouble recalling all that had happened in my life before the destruction of the Ring. I need to remember, cos. I need those memories, if I am to find myself again."

The feline next to them purred, blue cat eyes reflecting the sunlight.

"He doesn't love me as I love him," Frodo acknowledged without so much as a blink. "I know this. What was wrong with me all those years ago was that I couldn't accept it. I was selfish, desperate for more than just a memory of a dream with hope, and when I couldn't get what I wanted, I locked myself away, running away from the truth like a spoiled child denied a sweet. I left Middle-earth with the notion that if I could make myself forget about my love for him, forget about him entirely, then the pain of losing him would then lessen and disappear all together. I was wrong. I should have realized then that it is impossible to try and make your heart, your soul forget something it so desperately needs to make yourself you.

"I'm going back, Merry, and I'm not expecting anything from anyone. I'll get by on my own. I just.. need to go back to what I knew first, to be close to those mirrors of happiness, if I am to remember what happiness feels like at all. If I can only be near him, if I can only breathe the same air he does, I'll at least have that memory of love, however platonic, to sustain me, to fill that emptiness I've held for too long."

As Frodo moved to stand up and finish packing, Merry abruptly took his cousin into a fierce embrace, only just remembering not to lift him off the ground this time. "You're wiser than I, Frodo, though I still think you are a fool for going back..." He felt Frodo rubbing his back, as if it were he who needed the comforting around here! "Just don't let your feelings for him destroy you..."

"Perhaps I have no choice," Frodo whispered.

* * *

After all of Frodo's things were packed back onto his pony, the two cousins spent the remainder of the morning in a reflective silence, each having something on his mind to occupy him. At midday, after taking their last meal together, Frodo was ready for departure. The feline Para, which had followed Frodo all the way from the Grey Havens, sat upon the back of the pony, settling in for a long nap, obviously intent on following him further still. 

Meriadoc decided that he would walk with Frodo as far at the Buckland gates. Taking the pony's reigns, the two walked together, Frodo taking in the sights and sounds of Buckland as Merry took in the sight of his cousin, whom he guessed he would not be seeing again for a fair while. People nodded and bowed to the Master of Buckland as he passed, and more often than not a curious and sometimes even skeptical eye was cast on the Hobbit that accompanied him.

When the two parted at the gates, Merry gave Frodo a large purse full of money. "With that you'll be able to buy yourself a decent hole or house to live in," he grinned at his eldest cousin, not without some tears in his eyes.

By the gates of Buckland the two cousins, both alike in dignity and sorrow, embraced each other, Frodo uncaring that the taller Hobbit was lifting him off the ground again. By the gates of Buckland Frodo left his cousin behind and went out into the world to try and find himself and his home again.

"Come back to visit a poor bachelor hobbit sometime, dear cos!" Merry shouted to his back.

"Only if you promise to visit a lonely old hobbit as well, Merry my lad!" Frodo called over his shoulder.

The Hobbit traveled on all that day, having trained himself to take as little rest as possible from his many, hasty journeys in the past. Breaking such a habit was hard, and even if there weren't any Black Riders left in the world to haunt his footsteps, he still felt the need to press on and get back to Hobbiton as quickly as possible. That night he dreamt of white roses and working hands, and a smell of home.

* * *

The Hobbit awoke early with the sun, and after a light first breakfast he started off again. Hours passed and still he rode, eyes fixed steadily on the Road ahead of him. The birds sang from the trees that lined the side of the Road, and he slowly began to recognize it as the song sung outside his bedroom window in Bag End, long ago. It was the same joyous, uplifting song, "Oh sweet Middle-earth, Middle-earth, Middle-earth!" 

Frodo smiled and felt his spirits lift with the song so familiar. It conjured up memories of home, waking up each morning to the sound the these same birds' song and to Sam opening up the curtains of his room, letting the sunshine in, and greeting him cheerfully, "Wake up, Mr. Frodo! You're breakfast is ready." Eru above, how he missed those times so. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Sam would never greet him with each morning again and simply chose to enjoy the memory of happiness the birds' singing brought back to him.

Then suddenly, quite surprising himself in the process, he began to sing a cheerful little song he made right there on the spot. The cat on his lap yawned and looked up, his tail twitching with apparent interest.

_O long Road that ever runs on   
With footsteps of folk long gone   
That I tread with feet so tired of treading,   
I implore that you please guide me   
To where I can then at last see   
Those green hills to which I have been heading._

_Now I have seen many things   
But still nothing so far brings   
The joys that all good smails require.   
For the comforts of home I long;   
In this I cannot be wrong,   
It's a Hobbit's first natural desire._

_So no matter how far I roam,   
There's no place like home sweet home._

_Sipping tea by my front gate,   
Smelling roses as I wait   
For a friend to come visit and reminisce.   
Smoking a pipe by the fire,   
Reading books I acquire;   
These and more are all the things I miss._

_I have traveled far and wide,   
So far from where I abide.   
My home I've forgotten how to get back to.   
I've searched for it high and low,   
But Road, where it's at you know.   
So back to my home please lead me straight and true_

_For no matter how far I roam,   
There's no place like home sweet home._

Para meowed loudly at the end of the song and Frodo flushed, somewhat pleased with his attempt at a rhyme. "Rot... Not anywhere near as good as Bilbo's rhyming," he thought aloud, "but perhaps I can work on it once I actually find a place to call home, eh?" He smiled down at the cat and rubbed it's head, eliciting a purr from the little beast.

Hours passed like minutes as more songs were called up to his memory, words and feelings he had actually forgotten while in Aman. How could he have forgotten such a simple pleasure as singing? Then the words of the Sea Elf Lune came back to him, "Never stop singing, little master." He wondered breifly if she had known that he had forgotten how.

Para yowled suddenly and leapt off his lap in haste, scurrying off into the trees before he could stop him. Being brought so abruptly out of his thoughts, he realized exactly where he was. Hobbiton rose around him in great swell of mossing green earth, smells of cooking, and voices of hobbits, ambling by on their own private business. His eyes widened and he froze. Where had the time gone? Without even realizing it, he had simply waltzed into Hobbiton as if he was coming back from a stroll!

Fear stole over him, fear of being discovered, and his blue eyes darted round to see if anyone had recognized him. No, he realized with no small amount of relief. Everyone around him were either too young to have really known him, or were too unknown to him for them to recognize him even if they did see him, if they could spare time away from what they were doing to look his way. A warm, sweet smell drifted to his nose and he smiled. The Muffin Tin was not a few yards away and it looked as if it were being ransacked by children. He got off his pony, realizing how hungry he was, and walked over to the small shop, tying up the pony before stepping in.

The scent of freshly baked bread drifted over Frodo as he entered. A whole assortment of goodies, muffins and cakes, pies and breads, lined all the cases and countertops in sight, and he noticed many children staring at the display cases with admiring eyes and more than one was licking their lips in anticipation. Coming up to the counter, he asked for some cakes to go, and then picked up the Shire Chronicle, glancing through the headlines but also using the modest publication as a way of shielding his face from anyone who might walk in and possibly recognize him. He didn't feel like having all of Hobbiton know he was back just yet, at least not until he was settled.

Scanning to the back of the paper, he noticed a section devoted to ads. Job opportunities, missing animals, wanted ads, personal ads (he had a nice laugh at some of them), and then he came to something that caught his eye. Home ads, for rent and sale. He grinned, glad to have found an easy way to locate a new home, then as he scanned through the prices his smile faded. Not only was there no available housing in Hobbiton, most everything in both Bywater and Overhill were ranged at prices that he couldn't afford with the money Merry gave him. He seriously didn't want to have to share a house with strangers, but it looked as if he wouldn't be given a choice. How had prices gotten so high?

"Perhaps it was because of the War. I suppose the Shire was well devastated. Funny how I never noticed it before," Frodo murmured, a troubled look flashing across his face. Then, near the end of the list, an ad caught his attention. "Says here, 'For those in immediate need of low cost housing: Two bedroom smail in a small, private hill, kitchen, parlor, and ample storage included. Needs some fixing up, but still good to keep the cold nights out. If interested, speak to Mrs. Emerald Burrows at Burrows Farm, Overhill.'" He looked over the small sketch of the floor plans and let out a sigh of relief. "It could be worse, Frodo Baggins, but at least it's affordable and you'll have your privacy."

The bell on the door tinkled, signaling that new customers had come into the shop. The voices of two boys rose above all the other chatter. "I told you, Pippin. You can only have one, since I was the one what did most of the work."

Frodo nearly lost his balance at the name and he peeked from behind his paper, doubly glad that it had hidden his face. Two boys, both quite young, were stalking up to the display cases to decide on which sweet they wanted to buy. Both had light brown hair, frosted blonde on the ends, and grey eyes that stared hungrily at the goodies.

"I want four, Merry," the smaller lad whispered too loudly, and Frodo's blue eyes widened even further as he watched.

"No, Pip! I can only afford 5 cookies from the money I got from the carrots I sold," said the older lad, swatting him lightly upside the head. "And you didn't even do any of the work. You just stood there and grinned like a fool."

"Two cookies," Pippin-lad stated, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Merry-lad sighed and relented. "Fine, you can have two, I guess. Now hurry up and pick one, before one of our sisters find out what we're up to..."

The ladyhobbit behind the counter tapped on Frodo's shoulder, causing him to nearly jump and cry out. She smiled and handed him the boxes of ordered cakes, and he thanked and paid her quietly, trying hard not to draw the children's attention to himself. Exiting discreetly and getting onto his pony, he made ready for the short trip to Overhill, pleased that he had kept anyone from recognizing him. He wondered briefly if the names "Merry" and "Pippin" had become popular after the War and whose children they were.

The Baggins drew his hood over his head as he made his way up the Hill, moving closer and closer to Bag End. He regretted the fact that the only clear road to Overhill was the North Hill Lane, which passed right by Bag End. Even though he had chosen to come back, he still didn't feel ready to face Samwise or any of his family yet. So he rode up the Hill and tread the Lane with as much stealth as his pony could muster, drawing as little attention to himself as he could.

The smell of baking, probably for afternoon tea or an early dinner, drifted from the open round windows of Bag End as he passed, hardly daring to look. Some cheerful voices were heard from within and Frodo urged his horse to go faster, his heart beating rapidly and fear of discovery causing him to sweat.

But fortunately Frodo passed by without being noticed, and the sounds of the voices faded with the smell of cooking on the warm breeze. He followed the small paved path that rounded the side of the hilltop and led in a slope down to the small town below. He felt his breathing return to normal as he put the Hill behind him.

Below him was stretched the small village of Overhill, full of small hills, all bunched together, making it appear as if the land were once a boiling pot of water that had solidified over time into green earth.

Down Frodo went, feeling his spirits lighten once more. Fact was that he had hardly ever traveled into Overhill even after living in Bag End for most of his life. He was certain that there wouldn't be a soul who would know him for who he was here. He made his way past a little park full of well tended flowerbeds and rose bushes, past some small hills lined with round doors leading into hobbit holes, and at last came to a smail with a small, clear patch of farmland beside it.

He got off his pony and passed through the short gate of the smail. The round door was blue and looked as if it would need a second paint job soon. He knocked on the door and he heard a crash from somewhere inside the kitchen, followed by a feminine cry of surprise. He waited a moment before the door at last opened, revealing a rather disheveled looking lady hobbit.

"Yes, sir? What can I do for you?" the lady smiled pleasantly, a blush creeping onto her face as she tried to straighten out her apron, which actually had some liquid spilt on it. She had bright emerald eyes and auburn hair that hung in loose waves about her shoulders. Her dress was black, which was a somewhat uncommon color for hobbits to wear, except for the apron which was yellow with frills. The small lines that creased the corners of her eyes made her look well past her coming of age.

"Yes, good evening, madam," Frodo greeted, taking off his hood and bowing to the lady, whose cheeks pinkened further. "I'm Frodo Baggins, madam. I'm here to speak to you about your ad in the paper?"

The lady blinked, then she laughed, opening the door wide. "Oh, ye mean about the smail I'm out to sell. Well then, come right in, Mr. Baggins. I'm Mrs. Emerald Burrows, at yer service and yer family's. Come inside, and I'll pour you some tea and get the cakes out of the oven. Then after we talk, I can show you to the smail."

Frodo stepped in at Mrs. Burrows beckoning. The floor beneath him was carpeted, soft and plush against the soles of his furry feet, and it led down the short hall toward a small living room with a large fireplace, a fire already burning bright to chase away the shadows of the darkening evening. The lady hobbit led him to a chair in the living room, close to the fire, then scuttled away to fetch tea and cake. He took the moments she was away to look around. Many paintings and framed sketches lined every wall he saw, ranging from portraits of family members to Shire landscapes and still lifes. An open sketch book lay on the small, low table in front of him, with an unfinished picture of the Hill drawn out on it.

"It's a fine home you have here, Mrs. Burrows," Frodo called to her from the kitchen.

"Oh! Thank you very much," came her cheerfully reply. A moment later she was back with a tray full of tea and seedcakes. "And please," she smiled, setting the tray down on the table and picking up the sketch book to put away. "Please call me Emerald."

The two hobbits talked politely for the few moments they sat enjoying their tea and cake. They spoke of the weather at first, then Frodo asked her about the sketch book and discovered that Emerald was an artist in her spare time. The farm had been left to her by her late husband and she tried to tend it as best she could, but she just wasn't much for farming.

She asked about Frodo, where he came from, what sort of things he was interested in, but Frodo answered as vaguely as he could so that she couldn't find out too much. He merely told her he was a Baggins from Hobbiton who had come to the end of his money and had to give up his hole in that town to try and find a less costly home.

"Oh! You poor dear," Emerald gasped, putting her hands to her lips. "How awful to have to give up the only home you've known." Then she cast her green eyes to the hearth, sighing audibly. "I'm sorry to say that the hole I'm going to show you won't be anywhere near as fancy is what you're used to, Mr. Baggins."

"Don't worry for that, Miss Emerald," Frodo smiled charmingly. "I'll be happy enough to have a door between myself and the night. And besides, I came here knowing full well the place would need fixing up as you stated so in your ad."

The widow grinned and finished her tea. "Well then, if we're both done, I shall be showing you your new home."

The two hobbits walked out, Emerald now holding a lamp as the evening came on fast around them. Frodo walked on foot beside her, leading his pony down the lanes and paths of Overhill. They had gone not a few smails down from her farm when they came to a small independent hill with a wooden structure like a small house built right next to it, seemingly attached to the hill itself. Shrubbery grew around the path leading up to the front porch, looking as if it might have had a garden once but had been lost in weeds after years of being unattended. The smail itself had a round maroon door with a dull brass knob.

Emerald took out some keys from her dress pocket and unlocked the door. It creaked slightly as it swung open, leading into rather plain looking hall with wooden floor planks and only a few pegs for hats and coats on the walls of the main hallway. The widow went on inside to light up some candles for light. The parlor had a large green rug in the exact middle with only two chairs and a table sitting on it. The fireplace on the wall was cold and grey. Nothing was hanging on the walls and everything looked as if it had a hundred years worth of dust thrown over it.

Mrs. Burrows came into the room with some wood and was about to bend down to start up a fire when she let out a loud shriek, jumping nearly a foot into the air and dropping all the wood onto the floor with a bang. Frodo's eyes flew wide and he rushed to her side, wondering what on earth had made her so startled. In the corner of the room there were two small gleaming spheres of blue staring out at them, shinning like blue fire in the candlelight. Frodo blinked at their familiar look, then gasped as the cat came scampering up to him, rubbing his slender grey body around his ankles.

"How in Middle-earth did you get here?" Frodo asked with no small amount of amazement as he picked up Para, who only looked at him.

"A cat!" Emerald gasped, holding her hand to her heart. "Seeing those eyes in the dark nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I thought he was gone for good," he murmured to Mrs. Burrows as her rubbed behind the feline's ears, much to the little creature's pleasure. "He ran away from me earlier today.."

"So he's yours?" the widow inquired, stooping to pick up the logs and put them in the fireplace for lighting.

"More like I'm his, I think," Frodo chuckled, putting the cat back down on the ground and watching is take off out of the room and down the hall that led further into the smail. Soon the red glow of a fire lit up the room. In the firelight, the room didn't look nearly as dreary, but it was obvious that he would have a lot of work ahead of him the next morning.

"Like I be saying," she shrugged, dusting her apron off, "this place needs fixin'."

"It will serve, madam," Frodo smiled and reached for the purse Merry had given him. "Now exactly how much-"

"Oh no," Mrs. Burrows shook her head and held up a hand before he could open up the bag. "I won't be accepting any money today. I want to know how you get on here first and whether you will be staying here for certain. Now, now, none of that look, Mr. Baggins, I insist. It's bad enough this place looks like it could house a thousand million giant spiders easily. Let's wait it out a bit, and if you're still here after a month, then you can pay me."

Frodo chuckled and put his purse back on his belt. "That's generous of you, Miss Emerald. Thank you."

"Pish posh," the widow smiled with a wave of her hand. "'Tis the very least I can do for such a fine gentlehobbit as down on yer luck as yeself. Now you know where I live. If you be needin' anything, don't hesitate to call on me. I'll just be lettin' myself out now." She curtsied and offered a pleasant smile. "Welcome to Overhill, Mr. Baggins, and good night!" With that she turned and walked briskly out of the parlor, and a moment later he heard the front door close down the hall.

After exploring most of the smail and finding where the bedrooms were located, Frodo set about straightening things out and unloading his pony. He had little enough possessions to start out with, so the place didn't look much different after he was done getting his things where they belonged, except for the fact the the place a bit less dusty. It was growing too dark to do any real cleaning yet, and he was very tired from the long journey, so he simply made his way to his new bedroom and settled down for the night.

It all felt so new to him, laying in a strange bed, staring up at a ceiling he had never slept under before, and knowing it would be his new home from then on. There was a lot of work to do the next day, but surprisingly he was looking forward to it. There was so much to do now, so many things to occupy his time, and he smiled at the thought that he might really be able to build a new life for himself, on his own, without help from anyone. He would be able to reap the benefits of his own labors, and therefore they would be that much sweeter.

Para leapt onto the bed and settled down next to him, sharing in the warmth of his body, and he began to pet the cat's soft fur absently, smiling as he felt the vibration of purrs through his own body as they lay next to each other. His thoughts suddenly turned to Samwise and he smiled without realizing it. He wouldn't tell Sam he was here just yet. He planned on waiting until the whole smail was fixed up and his new life firmly established, and them maybe, just maybe, he might send a surprise letter to Bag End, inviting him over for tea. He giggled as he imagined the look on Sam's face. How wonderful it will be to see his face again.

Sleep crept on him, and his dreams were sweeter than they had been for a long time. Dreams filled with future possibilities instead of the past losses. And for once, his rest went uninterrupted till the break of day.


End file.
